


Jorah's curse - Daenerys Targaryen

by here_we_write



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Daario and Jorah being old friends, Dany being cute and adorable, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jorah constantly crying... because he's a baby, Jorah getting knocked out nearly every second chapter, Jorah going mad, Lord Jorah Mormont, Mad Queen Daenerys Targaryen, POV Daenerys Targaryen, POV Jorah Mormont, Translation, baby Iain Glen as Ser Jorah, battle of winterfell rewritten, mother and father of dragons, not literally though, them doing couple... things, you can guess who's going to be Rhaego's father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 131,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_we_write/pseuds/here_we_write
Summary: Lynesse left Jorah, so he sails broken hearted to Pentos, hoping to find his destiny there. And he actually does... [Jorleeesiiiiiii]
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 104
Kudos: 50





	1. Author's note

(pls read especially the first two points, they could make things clearer)

First of all:  
This is the translation of my German work “Jorahs Fluch – Daenerys Targaryen”… the name means “Jorah’s curse – Daenerys Targaryen” lol I’m sure, no one suspected that.

Updates and chapters:  
I think I will try to post a chapter every three days, since I still have to translate four parts (there are six parts). A chapter is usually sized between 2000 and 3000 words and there are 50 chapters (including this one).

Characters:  
1) Jorah Mormont – Jorah’s in this Fic a little younger than in the books or the show. I just preferred writing it like this… I guess I could put myself better in his place like this. Also his character is more like the one of book!Jorah which isn’t bad I think… he’s simply not THAT selfless like in the show. I also changed his look a little bit, he has dark hair like book!Jorah but the rest of him is like young Iain Glen. I watched Silent Scream, where he plays Larry Winters and that’s kinda how I imagine Jorah in this Fic… if you wanna see pictures, you can check out my Instagram account jbear_squad. I think, I’ll post some edits about it. 

2) Daenerys Targaryen – Daenerys is as old as she’s in the show I think, thus she’s nearly 16. She looks like book!Dany, i.e. Emilia Clarke a little younger, with silver hair and violet eyes. 

3) All the other characters – Most characters I’ve just imagined like in the show, but I think my descriptions are enough to understand it. And tbh I didn’t really care about them haha I mean they aren’t that essential lol

The Story:  
The story starts when season one does and ends when season 8 does… roughly speaking. The people who read the books and watched the show will realize soon that I was very much orientated towards both and added some things to cheer it up and make it a little… better. Nahhh I wouldn’t say better… well, actually yes… Nvm just read it yourself and decide lol. And I think I should tell y’all that the part I really wanted to write, no, the part I NEEDED to write, starts with chapter 15. So… I promise. It’ll be cool and reallyyyyyyy fluffy. At least for my and GoT standards really fluffy.

Warnings:  
I think everyone who watched GoT and read Asoiaf can bear reading this but anyways:  
\- there will be insults (especially Jon Snow in the later chapters xD)  
\- there will be fights  
\- there will be injuries and descriptions of them  
\- people will die  
\- it can get veeerrryyyyyyy cheesy sometimes  
\- of course, there are sex scenes but more like lime and not smut… at least I think so… I really don’t know for sure lol but tbh this fic is not about sex at all so if you’re here because of smut bye-bye  
I think that’s it…

Apologies:  
\- Fights: All the professionals among you, who are familiar with sword fighting or weapons in general, will probably think at every fight, even if it is a small one only: “What on earth is this absolute bullshit?” And for that... I'm really, really sorry. I truly am. Much to my regret, I'm not as experienced as I'd like to be in fighting techniques and all this stuff. But I tried to describe it logically, did some research and asked other people for advice.  
\- Fate: I ask you not to weigh up the chances, I know myself that some things are based on big coincidences, but hey, maybe it's just fate… and it’s a Fic I mean c’mon lol  
\- Logic mistakes: I think there are some mistakes, but not big ones… at least I hope so xD I didn’t notice any bad mistakes… and if there are mistakes just remember “It’s fantasy, everything is possible” … yeah, that’s what I’m telling myself at night, when I think about those mistakes.  
\- English… in particular my English skills: So, some of you may have noticed some grammar or tempus mistakes in this text already. That’s because I’m not a national speaker, but learn it since… I think… three years. So, you know… this whole translation thing is kinda… big. Thus, I translated it with the help of DeepL and had my English teacher look over it lol but most of this is still my work… which is not necessarily good lmao. Well, judge it yourself… but I promise, the real chapters are much better written than this one.

Stuff I want to say in general:  
\- In fact, I had some other names for this fic on mind, names like “Cursed souls” but I ended up with this one… I kinda like it but I have the feeling it’s way too poetical… like literally every FF name ever lol  
\- This is my first fic I actually finished and posted… ever… so… yeah… it’s my lil baby… my first bo- ok, I shut up, I think you get what I’m trying to say xD

Sooooooo that’s it xD Enjoy reading!  
Mia ;)


	2. Welcome to Pentos

She had banished him… 

He had no place to go. No home. Not anymore. 

Should he just join the golden company again? 

He was not that bad of a sell sword, but he couldn’t live the rest of his life as exiled knight and labourer. He would rather hang himself. 

Jorah let his dagger, which he always carried with him, hop over his fingers and back again. 

Lynesse had betrayed him. You could say he was angry at her but that would be understated. In case he would ever meet her again… well… what would happen? 

Would he attack her like in his dreams, which tortured him at night? 

Would he finally kill her? 

Or would he beg her to take him back? 

He didn’t know the answer and probably never would. 

The knight grabbed his dagger, turned and threw. It bored itself in the ship’s mast and the sailor, who was almost stabbed, froze. Jorah shot him a reproachful look. 

Why was he staring at him so stupidly? He certainly wouldn’t have skewered him. 

He pulled another dagger from its sheath and threw it – without thinking twice – at the mast. It got stuck a few centimetres from the first one. 

At least he could still handle his daggers. 

The man’s eyes widened and he grabbed his beard to wrap it around his fingers. 

“What?” the knight flashed and ran his hand a little too vigorously through his dark hair that was being ruffled by the wind. 

The sailor shook his head and cleared his throat. 

“The captain says, we’ll arrive soon in Astapor.” 

Somehow the Lyseni’s accent bothered him extremely. Well… lately everything connected with Lys bothered him extremely. 

“Great” he answered shortly, clenching his teeth, as he turned to the rail to look at the silhouettes of the city once more. 

Perhaps he would find the answer in Pentos… 

The man was still standing behind him. 

Why didn’t he just leave? Did he expect him to jump around and scream happily? 

When Jorah couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he growled at the water, walked to the mast to grab his daggers and rushed to the stairs that led under deck, where he kept all his stuff he had still left. He almost hit his head, but ducked under the beam that blocked his way in time and stumbled over a barrel. He nearly fell, but his hand had found a stack of boxes and he caught himself. 

He hated this damned ship! 

Growling, he went on, this time slower and careful not to fall over anything or hit his head. When he got to his shabby hammock, he regretted it not having brought an oil lamp with him. 

In this goddamned darkness he could barely see his own hands! 

It seemed like the whole world was against him. He lay down and was hoping his eyes would get used to the darkness. 

“I have loved you…” he whispered sadly, his thoughts with Lynesse. 

Why did everything he loved hurt him? 

Why did he lose everything? 

Did the gods care so little about him?

Was he such a bad man? 

Did he deserve it? 

Many would still call him a green boy, at the age of 24. He couldn’t have already drawn all the gods’ anger. In case there were any… 

Lately his world seemed to be reigned by misfortune. 

The shrill screams of the seagulls at Pentos harbour were giving him a headache and the roofs of the houses were reflecting the sunlight like mirrors. The scorching heat of the late afternoon was laying over the city, and a disgusting fishy smell was hanging in the air. 

When Jorah looked around, he realized why the captain of the tornado had looked at him and his clothes so sceptically and had forced this stupid golden shirt upon him. The people here just wore a loincloth or didn’t even leave their cool houses. 

Even in this shirt it was unbearably hot. 

The sun was shimmering on the sandy streets, making it hard to keep one’s eyes open. 

He definitely didn’t like this city… 

“Get out of the way, man! We have work to do!” called a rude voice behind him and just now Jorah noticed that he had stopped in the middle of the jetty. 

He quickly jumped to the side and watched three slaves grabbing six bags and carrying them back to their ship. He didn’t want to end up as a slave, that was clear. 

“Welcome to Pentos, idiot…” he murmured to himself and already wondered what he actually wanted here. 

He didn’t want to do that. 

“I don’t want to do that.” 

The fat magister who sat across from Jorah shot him a suspicious look. 

“You would do it for the seven kingdoms. Your homeland. You’ll see… Viserys is just like his father.” 

The knight leaned forward, lowering his voice ominously. 

“Then why don’t you kill him already?” 

“I’m not the one who decides. The boy is not my problem. I don’t care if he lives or doesn’t because I don’t care about those kingdoms either.” 

Jorah shook his head slightly. 

What a filthy bastard! 

“And why, seven bloody hells, are you helping to spy on him, when you don’t care about anything of this at all?” 

“Well… whether he or Robert wins… I’m covered” he smiled disgustingly. 

“Be aware of one thing, Mormont. I’m not trying to convince you for me, but for Varys. And he thinks Robert is much better than Viserys, so help your homeland by spying on the dragon’s brood.” 

“And what would I get out of that?” Jorah asked and realized that it had been a big mistake to come to the magister’s palace. 

Some slaves had informed him this morning that the magister wanted to meet him and of course he had come. He thought, he might be offered to join the city guard, but instead he was asked to spy on Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, who were currently guests of the magister and didn’t even know that he was betraying them. He felt a little sorry for them… 

“You could go home… you’d be Lord of Bear Island again” Illyrio smiled, knowing that he’d got Jorah now, who was returning the look sceptically. But the offer was tempting… too tempting. 

“How will Varys convince Ned Stark not to kill me?” 

“He’s a good friend of the king. He will convince him. Basically, it’s Robert’s decision anyway.” 

The knight thought about that. 

It was so easy… He could sail back to Bear Island within the next year. He could sail home. 

“When would my service begin?” 

“We will marry Daenerys to a horse lord very soon. His name is Khal Drogo. Their wedding would be a good opportunity to get into Viserys’ services. It’ll be in a week if Dany pleases the Khal.” 

Silence. 

“I’ll do it” the knight murmured and got up to go. 

He wouldn’t be able to endure the ramblings and the sweet smell that the magister spread any bloody second longer. 

“See you at the wedding!” Illyrio called after him and he answered with a weak “Yes…” 

When he got into the passage that would lead him outside, he heard muffled voices that were clearly arguing. He tried to ignore them, but one was growing louder and louder, nearly drowning the sobbing of the other one. 

“Viserys, please!” 

Was this…? 

The knight stopped and looked around. 

Where did the voices come from? 

Suddenly he heard a thud and someone – probably Viserys – shouted: “You woke the dragon, little sister!” 

“No… please, Viserys…” 

They were clearly audible now. The siblings were one floor above him. 

Jorah quickly ran to the stairs and took two steps at a time while hurrying on the higher floor. As soon as he reached the end, he was slowing his pace. 

Actually, it was stupid and not appropriated to show up to the two siblings now, but another outcry of Dany changed his mind. He stormed to the room where all the noises were coming from. 

How did it happen that there were no servants preventing Viserys from hurting Daenerys? 

Was that normal? 

He pushed the door open. 

A young man with shoulder-length, silver hair was standing in the middle of the room, holding a sword. He had turned his back on the knight, so he couldn’t see his face, but Jorah knew thanks to his voice that it had to be a grimace of anger. 

In front of him, huddling in a corner, was a girl with hip-length, silver hair. Her violet eyes were filled with tears and her beautiful face was contorted with pain. When she saw the man, who was standing in the doorway, staring at her, she gasped, startled. 

This caused the boy to turn to him. 

Illyrio was right. 

Aerys’ madness lay in that look. 

For a brief moment everyone was looking at each other, perplexed, then Viserys pointed his sword at Jorah. 

“Who are you?” he hissed. 

“Put your sword down, Viserys,” he just growled back. 

“How do know my-?” 

“Put it down!” Jorah interrupted him vigorously. 

He didn’t know why he cared at all, but he couldn’t have Viserys harassing Daenerys… not if he could prevent it. 

Viserys looked at him in bafflement. Apparently, no one had ever rebuked him. 

“No, I won’t.” 

After he said that, he confronted the knight with a simple attack to his chest, which he effortlessly escaped in taking a step aside. He grabbed the Targaryen by his shoulder and threw him on the floor. 

“I said, put the sword down,” the exiled repeated, taking a threatening step towards Viserys. 

“I’ll tell Illyrio about this!”, he just snapped and awkwardly got up to run out of the room. 

Jorah watched him for a split second, then turned to Daenerys. She was still crouched in that corner, staring at him with those huge… pretty sweet eyes. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but was struggling for words.

“I… um… heard calls when I was about to leave and… you don’t have to be afraid,” he finished his stuttering, irritated. 

That look… the way she looked at him…it confused him and made him not know what to say. 

She was still squatting on the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. 

What was he supposed to do now? 

“I… um…” 

He decided to go to her and offer her a hand to get up. Daenerys hesitated at first, but then took his hand anyway and he gently pulled her to her feet. 

Only now did he notice that she was almost completely naked. 

He took off his cloak immediately, which he was only wearing because of the formality of his visit, and held it out to her. Embarrassed, she took it and threw it around her shoulders. It was only when she pulled her hair out from under the fabric that the knight dared to look up from his feet again. 

“Thank you…,” she mumbled and met his gaze uncertainly. 

“Who are you?” 

For a short moment he was just standing there with his mouth open, had forgotten his name, and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’m Ser Jorah Mormont… of Bear Island,” he said. 

How had he got into this situation again? 

This… child should be married to one of the most powerful men of the east? 

“Is that in Westeros?” She asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. 

He smiled. 

“Yes, in the north. North of Winterfell.” 

“Sounds… cold,” she laughed shyly. 

He chuckled. 

“Yeah…” 

She looked smiling at his doublet with the Mormont bear embroidered on it. The knight simply looked down at the young princess, trying to suppress the thought of betraying her and her brother. 

“Isn’t it unusual for you to be in such a warm city and so far from home?” she asked and glanced at him again. 

The question triggered a sting in his heart. 

Apparently, Dany had noticed it. 

“Oh… was that… was it inappropriate? I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine. It’s unusual indeed, but because I’ve been here for a while, I’ve got used to the sun… but I always feel like I’m not complete… like a part of me is missing.” 

“Oh…” 

She really seemed to feel sorry for him. 

“Then why aren’t you at home?” 

He blinked. 

“Um… I should go,” he said suddenly and turned abruptly. 

He shouldn’t have come here. He was an idiot! He was managing to ruin his life whenever he thought it couldn’t get any worse! 

But the truth was that it could get always worse… it had taken him a while to understand that. 

“Ser Jorah!” 

He turned back to Daenerys. 

She was standing alone in the huge room like a statue, her hair hanging in streaks in her face and her violet eyes searching his azure ones. 

“Will we ever see each other again?”


	3. A Dothraki Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, this chap is a lil boring lol but the next one... I love the next one ;)

He would see Daenerys again today! After a whole bloody week… 

He had been thinking of her every day… 

She was so young! How could anyone even think about killing her? 

“Will we ever see each other again?”, she had asked and he had gone to her, put her hands in his and promised to be there for her. 

He would be there for her… 

He shouldn’t have promised to be there for her. 

He couldn’t keep that promise if he wanted to go home. 

Jorah tightened his belt, looking at himself in a small, tarnished mirror that was on the table next to his bed. The room he had chosen for this week was not particularly large, but everything he needed was in here. He looked around to pack the books, which were one of the few things he still had from home. 

As soon as he had filled everything in his bags, he went downstairs with all his belongings – which was miserably little – into the taproom and paid for his room and the food he had received. 

The wedding was supposed to take place on the coast of Pentos, so he had bought a horse right away. He would probably ride the next few months anyway. Well, the Dothraki life… 

As soon as he stepped out of the inn, he was blinded by the sun, but he had gotten used to it so he just squinted his eyes and strolled to the stables. 

He would meet Daenerys again today! 

This thought made him go a little faster. 

The knight saddled his new stallion, which he had named Shadow because of his fur, and stowed his belongings in the saddlebags. 

He couldn’t point a finger on what it was, but Daenerys fascinated him. Would she like the books? Maybe books weren’t that fitting for a wedding… 

Jorah sat up on the horse and took the reins. He came out of the barn, noticing that he was late, so he had Shadow trotted and rode down the alley to the street that would take him out of town. 

In his head he kept going through this one sentence. 

“A small gift for the new Khaleesi, songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms.” 

When he had left the city walls of Pentos’ behind, he galloped off and actually felt free for the first time since days. 

Lynesse was forgot. 

His desire to go home was forgot. 

The salty sea breeze was blowing towards him, his coat fluttering in the wind, as did his hair and he was caught in the moment. He wished it had never passed, but it already had, having now caught up with the horde of magisters, traders, and other noble or non-noble men who went to the wedding from Pentos. 

There where at least two kilometres to the Dothraki camp left and Shadow had to slow down. 

Great… 

After five minutes of jostling, he finally arrived and dismounted from his horse. 

Dothraki swarmed everywhere, cooking, taking care of the horses of the new arrivals and arguing with each other, all in Dothraki of course. Some of the Pentoshi stared at them blankly and somewhat disgustedly, since most didn’t understand what they were talking about. 

Jorah understood them perfectly. 

There had been some Dothraki in the Golden Company teaching him their language. He was amused by the view of the horse people. They compared almost everything to horses or stallions. 

The knight led Shadow to the other horses, who were grazing in a large group in a meadow. After unsaddling his stallion, removing the bridle and taking his present out of the bag, he went through the camp towards the celebration. 

The bride and groom sat on a platform with their backs to the sea. To their left were a variety of Dothraki dishes positioned, to their right Viserys, Magister Illyrio and Khal Drogo’s blood rider. 

When Jorah saw Daenerys, his jaw dropped. 

She was even more beautiful than the last time they had met. 

Suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could give her the books without stuttering… even though he had been practicing this sentence at least a thousand times in his head! 

The knight decided to keep a little distance from the elevation and look around among the guests. He spotted a small, more remote place where the new Kos of Daenerys and a few other Dothraki were sitting. 

“Is there room for one more?” He asked them, pointing at a gap between them. 

„Who are you? “, one replied suspiciously, whereupon Jorah looked at him equally. 

“My name is Jorah Mormont. I’m a knight from Westeros… So? Is there room here?” 

“If you defeat Mago”, grinned another one and nodded to the tallest, who rose. 

“Don’t be too hard, Mago!” 

He laughed and confronted the exiled with a harmless attack, who dodged and drew his sword. He parried the next assault so Mago was running past him and tripped over his foot. He sat down on the back of the Dothraki and pulled one of his daggers out of its sheath. 

“Perhaps you should have tried harder…” 

The others laughed, and even the one below him managed an amused, contemptuous snort. Jorah got up and pulled Mago to his feet. He brushed the dust off his coat and tunic and sat next to one of the Dothraki. 

“And who are you…?” He asked the group and gratefully accepted a horse meat skewer. 

“Rakharo,” replied the one who had given him the spit, pointing to the others one by one as he said their names. 

“You already know Mago, this is Kovarro and this is Aggo.” 

Jorah nodded and turned shortly to the platform. It looked like the gift-time was over very soon. 

He had to get it over with, otherwise he would miss it, so he quickly gnawed the meat off the spit, then got up with a sigh and said, “I still have a present for the bride. We’ll see each other later.” 

The knight pushed slowly through the dancing Dothraki towards the small group of people who were holding boxes and caskets and were staring expectantly at the Dothraki who called on them to come forward. Two slaves were carrying a box of snakes in front of Daenerys, and the magister who had waddled after them pulled out one, let it wind around his arms, and then put it back. 

Jorah rolled his eyes. 

It would take a while until it was his turn, if they kept taking so much time to show their gifts. 

Next came a man with freshwater pearls and then on with the finest horse leather and then another with pearls, but they looked different than the first ones. Daenerys nodded gratefully each time, and yet she didn’t give the impression of being really happy. 

At some point it should have been Jorah’s turn but he was skipped. At first, he thought it had just been a mistake and waited. But after a few minutes he stood alone and the Dothraki wanted to turn away. 

“Hey! What about me?”, He asked angrily and ran after him. 

The Dothraki shot him a look and shrugged apologetically. 

“He said you shouldn’t be called…” 

The Dothraki’s finger pointed precisely at Viserys, who was glared at them. 

Jorah clenched his teeth. 

Asshole! 

He just wanted to go to Daenerys. He didn’t need anyone’s permission. 

Suddenly the Dothraki stood in his way. 

“Let me pass… Why are you listening to Viserys anyway?” 

“He said Drogo will kill me if I fail.” 

Jorah snorted. 

“Listen, if you don’t let me by, I will kill you. Right now,” Jorah threatened the Dothraki and took a step closer to him.

“Let me pass.” 

Now it was the Dothraki who snorted contemptuously. 

“Up to you. Let’s end this right away.” 

Jorah smiled like his counterpart. 

Unexpectedly the Dothraki reached for his Arakh and let the curved blade whiz down on him. The knight was able to duck in time, but knocked over one of the boilers and almost fell into the cooking fire. 

The music fell silent and one could only hear the cheers from the Dothraki and occasional screeching from the Pentoshi. 

Daenerys jumped up, frightened. She had recognized Jorah instantly. 

The knight drew his sword and fended off the next attack, as he had done with Mago earlier this day. However, this time his opponent did not stumble. 

Then the knight attacked the Dothraki with a side strike, which he could block. Jorah took another swing and hit him on his arm this time. His counterpart was so shocked, he didn’t see the subsequent blow that pierced his heart and took his life. Before he fell to the ground, the exiled cut his braid and threw it into the fire. 

Booing and enthusiastic hooters sounded from all sides and the music resumed as if nothing had happened. 

Daenerys sat down again, relieved, although she actually wanted to run to the knight, who put his sword back in, after wiping the blood-smeared blade on the dead horse man’s clothes. And under the glances of the entire Khalasar, he brushed off his coat and his tunic, and strolled seemingly disinterested to the platform. 

“Andal,” said Khal Drogo in the common tongue. 

“Khal Drogo,” Jorah greeted him, bowing. 

He took the books from the leather pouch hanging on his belt, walked up the stairs and handed them to Daenerys with the words: “A small gift for the new Khaleesi, songs and histories from the seven kingdoms.” 

She smiled and it was the first time this day that he really saw an honest smile on her lips. 

“Thank you, Ser.” 

He returned her smile, then looked at Viserys. 

“I served your father for many years; gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king.” 

These words sounded rather tight and luckily Illyrio helped a little. 

“We could need him, Viserys.” 

The Targaryen boy narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. 

“The gods are gracious; I will take you into my service.” 

Jorah couldn’t help but grin and turned back to the Khaleesi. 

“Enjoy the wedding.” 

He nodded to the groom and went back down the stairs to his new friends who were now standing nearby, watching the gift delivery. 

“Well fought, daredevil.” 

Kovarro shouted and Rakharo punched him on the shoulder. Mago laughed: „It’s a good thing I didn’t fight you seriously before. I really wouldn’t have had a chance if Dhano didn’t even have one!” 

The others laughed, Jorah chuckled and looked at Daenerys again. 

Illyrio beckoned two servants who carried a huge box. They opened it in front of Daenerys and when she saw what was inside, her eyes widened in disbelief. 

“Dragon eggs, Daenerys,” the magister said, apparently pleased to see her happy. 

“They have been petrified over the centuries, but they will always be beautiful.” 

Dany took one into her hands. 

“Thank you, Magister.” 

Drogo suddenly got up and looked at his Khaleesi expectantly. She swallowed hard and put the dragon egg back to stand up and follow the Khal, who led her through the people and only stopped at the edge. 

The knight couldn’t see what was over there because all the Dothraki crowded to them. But when he started to push between them, they automatically made room. 

They had great respect for him since his fight with Dhano. 

As soon as he got to Daenerys, he saw her stroking a silver mare. It was clear why Drogo gave this horse to Dany. It was beautiful, petite and almost a foal. It was basically Daenerys … 

The Dothraki really compared everything to horses. 

“She is beautiful,” murmured the Khaleesi and turned to the knight. 

“Ser Jorah, I… I don’t know how to say thank you in Dothraki.” 

“There is no word for thank you in Dothraki,” he replied and only now did he notice the absurdity behind it. 

Before Dany or Jorah could have said anything else, the Khal lifted his bride onto her silver horse and climbed onto his red stallion himself. 

Viserys suddenly appeared next to his sister. 

“Make him happy,” he whispered.


	4. Constant fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... this is one of my favorite chapters, let's say it's very enjoyable lol
> 
> Btw... about those chapter titles ... I just make some shit up, before I post them xD I actually write them as chapter 1, chapter 2 and so on...

„You must eat, Daenerys,“ said Jorah worriedly, riding with shadow next to her Silver, who was browsing on the edge of the path. 

“I’m not hungry,” she replied wearily. 

Dany was looking pale even though they had ridden in the sun all the time and the circles under her eyes were growing darker every day. 

“Then drink at least,” he tried and handed her his water bottle. 

Reluctantly, she accepted it and took a sip. 

The knight rummaged in his saddlebag and found a few scraps of dried horse meat. He also gave her one of them and with a repulsed mine she ripped off a piece of meat, chewing on it in disgust. 

“Isn’t there anything else?” 

“There are two things the Dothraki have in abundance. Grass and horses. Have you ever tried the grass?” 

It was supposed to be a joke, but apparently Dany didn’t even hear it. 

“The Dothraki have strange customs, but you get used to them over time. You just have to face them openly.” 

Dany looked up and followed a horse and his rider with her eyes. It was her brother who rode awkwardly next to Rakharo. Jorah had followed her gaze and when he looked at her again, he noticed the single tear that rolled down her cheek. 

He wanted to lean over and wipe it away, but he knew he couldn’t do that. 

“For example, there are meadows and fields full of ghost grass in the shadow lands beyond Asshai. The grass kills all other grasses and glows at night. The Asshai’i often use it as lighting and for magic. The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover the whole world and that’s how it all ends,” he said to underline his previous words. 

He thought Daenerys hadn’t noticed him again, but then she said, “I’d like to go to Asshai. I heard so much about it.” 

Jorah was glad that she had heard him after all and was not immersed in her affliction. 

“Well, if Khal Drogo allows you to go to Asshai, we could sail there one day,” smiled the exiled, hoping that it would cheer her up a bit, but it didn’t because Drogo was riding past them and Dany almost fell off her horse, shocked. 

Sad and angry at the same time, he glanced at the Khal and heard himself say: “It’ll get easier.” 

What that was about was a matter of interpretation. 

Dany looked at him slightly doubtful on the one hand and a little surprised on the other one because he was talking about this. 

He wanted to slap himself. 

He should learn to keep his mouth shut. 

Without saying anything, the Khaleesi pulled on the reins of her silver one, nudged her lightly on the flank and joined the passing Khalasar. 

Ser Jorah slumped in his saddle. 

It couldn’t have been clearer that she didn’t feel like talking to him. He didn’t know whether it was because of him or simply that she had no desire for company. 

It was just before sunset when he and Daenerys arrived in the camp. He had been riding near her the whole day, careful that she had no problems. She had held up bravely, but was now totally tense and her thighs had rubbed against the saddle. 

The knight jumped off his horse and hurried to her. He reached under her arms and lifted her off her horse. 

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she wrapped her arms around his neck so as not to tip over. Jorah hadn’t expected it and almost fell over himself. 

“Khaleesi, the next time it gets too tiring, just say it. We could have stopped hours ago,” he said quietly. 

She only shook her head and let go of his arms. 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Irri and Jhiqui, two of Dany’s servants her brother had given her, came and led her to her tent. Ser Jorah just stood there lonely and didn’t know what to do. He decided to take care of Shadow. 

As soon as he had his horse’s reins in his hand, Viserys ran into him. It was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable here. 

“You should have stayed in Pentos, Your Grace,” said the knight as he passed his king. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Mormont,” the Targaryen boy snapped at him. 

“Forgive me, my king, of course you are right,” Jorah apologized exaggeratedly and almost bowed. 

“Don’t mock me, Ser. If I had stayed in Pentos, you would have had to stay there too. And who would have taken such good care of my sweet sister?” 

That hit the knight like a punch in the face and he had no other choice than to put on a ha-ha-ha smile and go. 

Viserys would regret those words. 

The next day they continued their journey and Dany was in a surprisingly good mood compared to the past few days. 

“Where do the Dothraki get their slaves from? I cannot imagine that they would buy them somewhere”, she asked the knight who was riding next to her. 

“That’s true. Dothraki don’t believe in money.” 

He glanced at her to make sure she was really interested in this and continued. 

“So… imagine that you are a citizen of a small town. A wealthy one with slaves. One day your city is attacked by the Dothraki. Would you fight those wild horse people who are so loud and rough, risking your life or would you give them your slaves and leaving it at that?” 

She thought only briefly. 

“I’d give them my slaves.” 

Jorah nodded. 

“Most choose the second option. Of course, it is also very daring. Sometimes a Khal feels offended by the number of slaves or by ugly ones… and sometimes he simply wants to fight.” 

“That doesn’t sound fair.” 

“It sounds like Dothraki. And you are their queen.” 

She gave him a sad look. 

“They would never listen to anyone other than Khal Drogo.” 

“Well, you’ve never tried it, have you?” 

A whip boom and an outcry interrupted their conversation. 

The slave who was being driven ahead of them had stumbled and fell. He was struggling to get up because of the basked on his back and when he did, a strap loosened and all of the contents fell to the ground. For that he received another slap. 

Daenerys stopped. 

“Tell them to stop,” she ordered Jorah. 

He looked at her in astonishment and also made Shadow stop. 

“For how long?” 

“As long as I command,” she replied. 

He smiled. 

“You’re learning to talk like a queen.” 

Now she smiled. 

“Not a queen. A Khaleesi.” 

And with that, she jumped off her Silver, picked up a wooden bowl, and handed it to the slave who was busy collecting the things back. He paused in awe, looking at Daenerys with wide eyes. He nearly bowed to the ground as he accepted the jar and thanked her in Valyrian. 

She smiled kindly at him and stepped from the path into the meter-high grass. Jorah gave the order to take a short break and looked after the Khaleesi with concern. 

Where did she go? 

Hopefully she didn’t get lost! 

He reached for the reins of her Silver and hesitated for a brief moment, until he finally rode after her. At first, he only heard the muffled steps of the horses and then there was a choked cry from the front. 

He immediately pushed his heels into the flanks of Shadow and galloped in the direction from which the noises had come. A clearing opened up before him and he jumped off his horse. 

Viserys was holding his sister by her neck and in the other hand he was holding a sword which he had pointed at her. 

“You little whore, dare to give me commands?!” He yelled at her as she tried to take a few steps away from him. 

“Please stop,” she choked but he didn’t let go of her. 

Jorah pulled a dagger, balanced it on the back of his hand, and threw it. It hit the blade of the sword and Viserys let it fall out of shock. Daenerys had enough time to run to Jorah and before he knew it, she was in his arms and pressed her face to his chest. 

He stood completely perplexed, since he really hadn’t expected it and simply put his arms around Dany. 

When she let go of him again, she yelled at her brother. 

“I hate it! I hate you! I have to be afraid always and anywhere! Either because of the usurper or because of you! And you are my brother, Viserys! My brother!” 

The Targaryen boy had picked up his sword and was staring at his sister and his knight in anger. 

“You have no idea what it’s like to be the true heir to the iron throne! All the weight-!“ 

“No! Shut up! I’m tired of it! I’m tired of listing to this day in day out! You will walk now. A slave will get your horse.”

She turned with tears of rage in her eyes, climbed her Silver, and waited for Jorah to do the same with Shadow. He quickly pulled his dagger out of the ground and hurried to his stallion without wasting a singly glance at his king. 

That evening he didn’t sit around the campfire with his friends and ate, but went to Dany’s tent. He knew Drogo was out hunting today and would probably not come back until noon tomorrow. 

When he got to the entrance, he heard voices from inside. It was the servants who were talking in Dothraki. 

“She’s still bleeding. It only stopped recently.” 

“But that can’t be. The Khal spends far too many nights with her.” 

“But it is like this. I know that it actually can’t be.” 

“Unless… she’s cursed. It is known that cursed women cannot have children. Unless they find another cursed man.” 

Such nonsense! Jorah had never heard of that! 

He didn’t want to eavesdrop on the servants’ conversation any longer so he cleared his throat. They immediately stopped talking. 

“Who’s this?” Irri asked shocked. 

“It’s Jorah Mormont. I want to talk to the Khaleesi.” 

He heard footsteps and then Dany yanked back the leather that covered the entrance. She was wearing a thin dress that reached the floor, her hair was freshly combed and she smelled as if she had been bathing. 

“May I come in?” He asked, suddenly not sure anymore if this was a good idea. 

At least Dany seemed to be happy.

“Of course,” she smiled and took a step aside to let him in. 

Candles were everywhere in the tent and the braziers were almost all active. Daenerys sat on the bed next to which the dragon eggs were set up. 

“You wanted to talk to me?” 

Jorah nodded and added: “Alone.” 

The Khaleesi waved to her servants and they disappeared out of the tent with suspicious looks. 

“Sit down with me, Jorah.” 

He did as he was told and took a seat next to her. 

“So? What’s the matter?” 

He swallowed and chose his words carefully. 

“Um… today… in the grass sea. You said that you live in constant fear. I-I didn’t know that. I thought… well, at least hoped you would feel safe when…” 

He broke up and lowered his gaze to his feet.

“…I hoped you would feel safe when I… when I’m with you.” 

He blushed, too embarrassed to look up. 

There was a short silence, then Dany said softly: “I do.” 

Her look was warm and he felt her hand, laying on his leg. 

“So… you don’t live in constant fear?” He asked and rose his gaze. 

Neither of them broke eye contact. 

“I guess…,” Dany said, biting her bottom lip… her lips… 

He blinked irritated. 

“So… you feel better when I’m with you?” 

His breath became flatter as she tilted her head slightly to the side. 

“Yes…” she breathed, blinking innocently. 

Oh, damn her… 

Overwhelmed by the feelings of the moment, the knight leaned forward and couldn’t help but moan as his lips smashed against hers. 

She broke the kiss after a few seconds to look into his widened eyes. 

Had this been a mistake? 

Heck, what had he done? 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as she leaned forward to kiss him herself. 

He shut his eyes and pulled Daenerys closer. He felt her small, warm hand cubing his cheek and the other one on his chest. Jorah gave in and they fell into the bed together. 

For a brief moment their lips parted. During this time, Jorah whispered: “We’re being foolish!” 

Dany sat on him and pulled him up to kiss him again. 

“Who cares?” She murmured into his mouth and ran her hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know…” 

She bit his bottom lip. 

“…what I would’ve done…” 

She buried her fingers in his hair. 

“…without you.” 

Jorah paused to look at her. 

“You are so beautiful,” he growled softly. 

She smiled and kissed him again. She somehow managed to pull off her dress and he simply had to stroke her tender skin with his hands. 

“So beautiful…” 

Jorah pulled her back to him. 

When their lips met this time, Dany opened her mouth for his tongue. He moaned again and was sure that he could never get enough of her sweet taste. His hands slid from her back down to her hips, while hers had started to untie his golden shirt. 

He let go of her and quickly removed this ruddy shirt himself and then they both were suddenly in bed again. He removed his pants and couldn’t help but grin into their kisses. 

He wanted to feel her so badly… 

The warmth of her body turned him even more on and when she began to caress his neck, everything was forgot. 

He was sitting in his tent with Rakharo, talking with him about various swords and fighting techniques, when Jhiqui came in. 

“The Khaleesi would like to speak to you, Jorah the Andal.” 

He looked up in surprise and immediately got up to leave. 

Was there a problem? 

He entered her tent without announcing himself. Khal Drogo was hunting again and she was sitting alone in front of her dragon eggs. 

As soon as she saw him, she got up. 

He walked slowly to her and raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

She swallowed and then she said, “I’m pregnant.”


	5. Vaes Dothrak

He was literally betraying himself. Daenerys was certain that the child was his. Reporting Varys that she was pregnant… He was betraying his own blood. And all of this just to get back home. 

That was crazy! 

Well, the letter was already sent, there was nothing he could do about it. 

Would Robert tell him to kill Daenerys? 

No. No that wasn’t part of the deal. 

Jorah had just come back from Qohor. He had told Dany that he had to fix something that had to do with the Golden Company. In truth, however, he had sent this man report to Varys. 

He shouldn’t have done that. 

Suddenly Shadow stopped and Jorah slipped slightly in the saddle. 

“Vaes Dothrak,” Dany smiled, looking at the gate under which they had just stopped. 

Two rearing stallions, one on the left, one on the right, their hooves met in the middle just above the head of the Khaleesi, thirty-five feet high. 

Daenerys had thought it would be best if she told Drogo that it was his child. Jorah had agreed to this, although he felt even more guilty because of that. When the Khal found out about the child… his child, he immediately ordered to ride to Vaes Dothrak, as the tradition demanded. 

“The Dothraki are stupid people,” Viserys snorted when he saw that there were half-destroyed statues everywhere along the way. 

“The Dothraki are my people. You shouldn’t call them stupid,” Dany said. 

“Thanks to you, little whore, your people are mine. They are my army. And Khal Drogo is marching in the wrong direction with my army!” 

As soon as the wannabe king had ridden away, Dany asked: “Could he conquer the seven kingdoms, Jorah? With Drogo’s army, I mean.” 

“They fear the salt water. They won’t cross it. Not for Viserys.” 

“But if they did…” 

He thought about it. 

“Robert Baratheon was stupid enough to fight them in the open field. The Dothraki would definitely win that, but his advisors are different. More careful. They would be entrenched in their castles and there was nothing we could do.” 

“And you know these men?” 

He laughed sadly. 

He was one of those men. 

“I fought beside them… ate with them under one roof. And now Ned Stark wants my head,” he finished bitterly. 

Dany shook her head blankly. 

“Why?” 

“I sold men into slavery…” 

Her shocked look hurt more than it should. 

Before she could ask again, he said shortly: “No money and an expensive wife.” 

She noticed that he didn’t like to discuss this subject and yet she asked: “Where is she now?” 

Their gazes met. 

“In another place. With another man.” 

They had arrived in Vaes Dothrak when the sun had reached its zenith. 

Now it was just after sunset and he was on the way to the Khaleesi. She had let one of her maids fetch him again… sometimes he felt like a dog. 

When he reached the tent and entered, he almost collided with a black eyed Viserys. He looked after him in amazement and then went inside. It was unusual for him not to make a derogatory comment when he saw Jorah. 

“I hit him…” Dany answered his unasked question. 

“I hit the dragon.” 

“Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake.” 

They had decided that this one night was a one-time thing… But he didn’t want that. Well, he couldn’t change it. 

“He’s still the rightful king,” she said unsure and he grimaced. 

“Do you really want to see your brother on the iron throne?” 

She bit her lip. 

“No… But the common people are waiting for him. Illyrio said they are sewing dragon banners and praying for his return.” 

“The common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends… they don’t care what games the high lords play.” 

Dany closed the distance between them. 

“What do you pray for, Jorah?” 

He swallowed… Lost in his thoughts… 

“Home.” 

She managed a small smile. 

“I pray for home too.” 

She lowered her gaze. 

“My brother will never conquer the seven kingdoms. He’ll never take us home.” 

Jorah opened his mouth to contradict, but he couldn’t. He would prevent it with his own hands. 

“Ride well, get strong! Ride well, get strong! Ride well, get strong!” 

This singsong has been going for hours. Ever since the ceremony started. It was coming to an end now and Daenerys had to eat an entire horse heart to strengthen her child. 

Viserys’ only comment was: “Hopefully that wasn’t my horse.” 

Jorah stood beside him, waiting anxiously for Dany to make it. 

“What does she actually say?” Asked the Targaryen, pointing to the woman standing in front of the kneeling Khaleesi and singing her own song, which was repeated only every second line. 

The knight was so fixated on Daenerys that Viserys elbowed him in the kidney. He jumped and gave his king an angry look, then translated: “He will be the stallion who mounts the world. The promised prince. He will unite all Khalasars into one. The promised prince.” 

He suddenly realized what that meant. 

It was a boy! 

Dany glanced at him briefly and a warmth filled his chest. 

“It’s going to be a boy…” 

Viserys’ expression hardened. 

“He won’t be a real Targaryen. He is not of the blood of the dragon.” 

The exiled didn’t hear him, he could only look at Daenerys. Suddenly she tipped over and choked. 

Jorah would have jumped up, if he had been sitting like Drogo, but he was already standing and couldn’t go to Dany because all the other Dothraki in front blocked his way. He had no choice but to wait. 

The chant had stopped and started again louder and with more energy when Daenerys straightened up and swallowed the last bit of horse hear. 

He let out a relieved, shaky laugh. 

He wanted to run to her and bear hug her. 

“The stallion who will mount the world shall have a name. A brave name,” she said and her eyes flicked to him. 

“His name shall be Rhaego!” 

“Rhaego!” Shouted a single Dothraki and everyone else came up with it. 

“Rhaego! Rhaego!” 

The Khaleesi walked up to her Khal, who lifted her carefully to present her proudly to the Dothraki. The Dosh Khaleen stood by and smiled as if they knew something, no one else did. 

“She truly is a queen today,” he said to himself and yet he looked around for Viserys and expected a snappy comment. But it didn’t come. Dany’s brother was gone. 

Surprised and worried at the same time, Jorah’s eyebrows went up. 

This couldn’t mean anything good. 

Where was Viserys, goddammit? 

An absurd thought occurred to him… Viserys had often spoken of simply taking Dany’s dragon eggs and going to buy an army with them, the knight had always thought it was just stupid chatter, but now was the perfect moment. 

He looked at Daenerys one last time and turned away, left the Dosh Khaleen temple, and walked straight to the tent of the Khaleesi. 

He entered slowly and looked around. As he was suspecting. Viserys crouched on the floor in front of the dragon egg box and was about to put the third one in a bag. He had heard the knight and jumped up with his sword suddenly drawn. 

“Don’t let them see you’re carrying a sword in Vaes Dothrak. You know the lore.” 

“It’s not my lore,” Viserys answered and put his sword back. 

The knight nodded in the direction of the bag. 

“They don’t belong to you.” 

“Whatever is hers is also mine.” 

Jorah took a step closer. 

“Once perhaps.” 

Now it was up to Viserys to take a step closer. 

“Since I was five years old, the weight of being the true heir of the iron throne has been on my shoulders. The future of the world’s greatest dynasty. And no one has ever given me what they gave to her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it.” 

He lifted the bag. 

“I can buy an army with one egg. With a second a fleet.” 

“And yet you take all three…” 

“I need a large army!” The Targaryen snapped back and wanted to push past Jorah. 

But he didn’t let him pass. 

“Let me go.” 

“No,” was Jorah’s answer.

Viserys took a deep breath to relax, then looked at Jorah with a thin smile. 

“You stand here, in all your nobility and honour…” 

He shook his head amused. 

Jorah was confused but didn’t want to let it show so he clenched his teeth. 

“You don’t think I see you looking at my little sister? Don’t think I know what you want?” 

The king kept coming closer. 

“You don’t think I noticed her smell on that day… she didn’t smell of Drogo. I’m sure of that.” 

And he took a deep breath again. The grin that followed let Jorah narrow his eyes. 

“I don’t care… You can have her.” 

The growl that escaped Jorah surprised both of them. 

“I swear to you… if you tell anyone...” 

“Oh, I won’t… not if you let me go.” 

The knight didn’t move. 

Viserys’ look flared up. 

“Does loyalty mean nothing to you?” 

“It means everything to me.” 

“And yet here you stand.” 

“And yet here I stand,” Jorah replied dangerous calmly. 

It looked like Viserys was trying to solve a math problem, then finally he dropped the bag. The exiled wasn’t sure if he should let the Targaryen by but he already had passed. He watched him go, desperately. 

It was dangerous to let him walk around with the knowledge he had, but he couldn’t simply kill him. Not until Varys asked him to… 

But then Jorah had to get out of here. He would have to leave Daenerys.

Jorah grabbed the bag, sat down on the bed, and gently put the eggs back in their box. Suddenly, as he touched the shimmering green egg, an inner warmth shot through his veins. But it was over instantly, so he wasn’t even sure if it had actually happened. 

Daenerys burst into the tent, as he put the last one back, and gasped in shock when she saw Jorah sitting on her bed. 

He looked up and somehow felt trapped. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, almost a little suspicious, and sat down next to him. 

“Your brother tried to steal the dragon eggs and make off,” he said, not knowing why he was being so nervous. 

She took his hand in hers and smiled. 

“But my bear stopped him?” 

She had made it a habit to call him her bear when they were alone, which was… so cute… and made it even harder for him to keep it a one-time thing. 

“Yes…” 

“Then everything is fine…” 

Dany blinked. 

“… isn’t it?”, she added concerned when she saw the expression on his face. 

“What’s the problem, Jorah?” She asked, since he didn’t say anything. 

“He knows,” he uttered contritely. 

Dany’s eyes widened. 

“That’s impossible.” 

“But he does.” 

“And… why did you let him go?” 

“Well, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do! What do you expect from me?!” 

He let go of her hand and ran his own through his hair. 

Daenerys looked at him hurt. He saw it and immediately felt guilty again. 

Shite… 

“It’s just… I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Honestly. I shouldn’t have-“ 

“It’s okay,” Daenerys interrupted him, leaning on his shoulder. 

“He won’t tell anyone…” 

“Let’s hope so…” 

“Yes, let’s hope so.”

This evening, a party was held to celebrate Dany’s pregnancy. Jorah was sitting next to her and put a roasted scorpion in his mouth. The Khaleesi had been talking to her servants all along, but now she turned to him. 

“You’re so quiet! It’s a celebration! You should be bouncy!” 

His thoughts had been with Viserys, who had gone to the market to get drunk with his alleged friends. But when Dany looked at him with happy, sparkling eyes, he forgot about her brother and smiled: “Well, so far you haven’t really looked for a conversation with me.” 

“Now I do. So… tell me something about Bear Island.” 

He considered for a moment.

“Um… Bear Island… It lies in the bay of ice and on the higher points of the island is snow even in summer. Most forests consist of spruce and isolated oaks that must be centuries old and the water of the lakes and streams is clear and cold. It is actually too cold to take a bath at any time of the year, but some residents of the island dare to jump into the lakes. It’s like a test of courage that you have to pass to be considered a man.” 

“Did you do this test too?” 

“Many times… Some say that the untouched water of the mountains purifies the mind and frees you from sins committed.” 

“And what do you eat there?” 

“Well, the people who’re living on the coasts mainly feed on fishing. Those who live in the interior of the island often hunt. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a bear.” 

“Have you ever killed a bear?” Dany asked with round eyes. 

Jorah grinned proudly. 

“Not a brown bear yet. But one with white fur… I did it alone.” 

“You’re a show off, Jorah Mormont,” Daenerys laughed. 

“Well, you were the one who asked…”, he mumbled defensively. 

Still smiling, she shook her head slightly. 

He knew it wasn’t appropriated in the presence of Drogo, but he leaned forward anyways and whispered in Dany’s ear, “Did you know that I love your smile?” 

Daenerys blushed. 

“Jorah… you cannot-“ 

“DAENERYS!” 

She winced. 

Viserys had just staggered into the tent and looked around. 

“Where’s she?” He asked a Dothraki, who just stared at him in disgust and pushed him away. 

“EY! I am the KING! And I have something to announce!” 

Dany seemed to wish the ground would open and swallow her up. 

“Stop him. Please…,” she said to the knight, who immediately got up. 

A drunken Viserys didn’t seem being able to keep any secrets. 

“Your Grace, you should go. Don’t make any mistakes you would regret afterwards.” 

“Are you threatening me?” The king chuckled. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone… I swear to the gods, one word and I’ll kill you!” Jorah growled low-voiced. 

That silenced the Targaryen in the first moment. 

Then he yelled, “How dare you threaten your king?!” 

And with that, he pounced on Jorah, who fell over in surprise and pulled the king onto the floor. Viserys was a little taller than the knight, but much weaker. It was easy for him to roll onto the other one and jump up again. 

He grabbed his opponent by the collar and effortlessly lifted him to his feet. The knight pressed him against one of the pillars of the temple and pressed the air out of the king’s lungs. 

“Let go of me!” He gasped, but Jorah ignored him. 

Dany’s brother grew paler and paler, but he kept holding on to him. He didn’t notice Dany’s outcry either. Some of the Dothraki even laughed, including Khal Drogo. 

“If-you-say-a-word…!” He hissed. 

It was the small hand that someone lay on his shoulder and the pleading tone of Dany’s voice that made him let go of Viserys. 

“What are you doing, Ser?” She asked reproachfully and took his arm to lead him away from her brother, who was crouching for air on the floor. 

Jorah was confused. 

“I… I don’t know what came over me. I-I didn’t want to…” 

“Shhh it’s alright. No one got harmed…,” said Dany quietly. 

Suddenly they heard steel clinking and when they both turned around, Viserys was facing them with a raised sword. Jorah instantly pushed Dany behind himself. 

“What the seven hells are you doing?! I’ve told you that it’s forbidden-!” 

“Shut up or you’ll be the first one with a cut throat!” The king interrupted hoarsely, pressing the sword against Jorah’s doublet so far that it bored a small hole into the leather. 

Drogo jumped up and the rest of the Dothraki crept slowly to them. 

It was deathly quiet. 

“Put the sword down or they’ll kill you,” Jorah said slowly and more calmly. 

Viserys seemed very confident thanks to the wine. Too confident. 

“Ha! They can’t shed blood in their sacred city. They can’t harm me.” 

Apparently, only he didn’t know that there were ways to kill a man without spilling blood. 

He came even closer to the knight, but Jorah didn’t move an inch. He wouldn’t let him hurt Daenerys. But suddenly she was no longer behind, but next to him and pushed him behind herself with the words: “He will kill you. Whereas I’m his sister and he needs me alive to get out of here alive too.” 

“Mh… clever, little sister”, Viserys purred, pointing his sword now at her swollen belly. 

“What do you want, Viserys?” Dany asked. 

“I want what I came for. I want the crown that was promised to me. Drogo bought you but he never paid for you. Tell him, I want what was bargained for or I’m taking you back. He can keep… the baby.” 

He briefly looked at Jorah. 

“I’ll cut it out and leave it for him.” 

She swallowed and translated what he’d said. Khal Drogo’s look was growing darker with every word. 

“I will give him his crown. A golden, shiny crown people will be afraid of.” 

Daenerys translated again, obviously knowing that it wasn’t what it looked like. But she didn’t warn her brother and so he just smiled surprised. 

“That was all I wanted… w-what was promised.” 

He lowered his sword. Drogo smiled and went to Dany to put a hand on her belly where the sword had touched it. 

Jorah tried to ignore that. 

“Are you ready?” Asked the Khal. 

She nodded slowly. 

Thereupon, three Dothraki attacked Viserys. One broke his wrist so it cracked audibly and the Targaryen dropped his sword, screaming. He was knocked down by another and the third one took his other arm, so he couldn’t get up. 

Drogo had poured out one of the cauldrons and hung it over the fire again, to throw in his gold chain, which slowly began to melt. 

Now Viserys understood and stopped whining about his hand. 

“No.” 

His eyes widened. 

“No. Please.” 

Jorah took Dany by her arm and wanted to turn her away. 

“You don’t have to look at it.” 

“But I want to,” she replied coolly, looking emotionlessly at her brother. 

“Dany, please,” he begged. 

Drogo lift the kettle from the fire and carried it to him. 

“Dany, please tell him to stop. I beg you!” 

The Khal came closer. 

“Please, don’t…” 

Viserys started crying. 

“Dany! Please!” 

Drogo raised the cauldron and said, “A golden crown for the king.” 

“No! DANY! DANY, PLAESE!” 

The pitiful sight made Jorah sad. The wine had killed Viserys. 

“DANYYYAAARRGGGHHHHH!” 

As soon as the gold ran over his head, he fell silent and when the Dothraki released him, his body fell lifeless to the ground. 

Klonck. 

Daenerys was frozen. 

“Khaleesi?” Jorah asked worried. 

Silence. 

“He was no dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon.”


	6. One Merchant, One Maggie, Two Killers

“It’s good to be back at the market,” said the Khaleesi, happily turning around to look at all the stands. 

It had been three days since her brother’s death. She used to say she was alright, but barely left her tent and simply stared at her dragon eggs most of the time. When Jorah had told her that he was worried about her mental state, she had the idea to go to the east market in Vaes Dothrak to prove that she was fine. 

But even though they were here and she seemed happy, Jorah wasn’t entirely convinced. After all, she had lost her brother. Of course, he had hated Viserys himself, but that was different. He hadn’t been his big brother. 

Besides, he would have killed him otherwise himself … that issue was over now. Soon he would get a letter of Varys. A royal pardon… 

“Ser Jorah, I… tried to convince my… Drogo that we should still sail to Westeros and conquer the seven kingdoms, but he doesn’t want to see why. My vocabulary is not big enough to explain everything and I thought… if you’d try to… maybe he listens to you. The Dothraki respect you.” 

He should be feeling flattered, but the mere thought of the Khal spoiled his mood. The image of Dothraki – led by Drogo – in the Seven Kingdoms was terrible. Almost as bad as the thought of Viserys becoming king. 

“Well, the Dothraki do their own things, for their own reason. Be patient, Khaleesi. We’ll sail home, I promise.” 

At least he would… if he would finally get this shite pardon. He tried to convince himself of the thought that Daenerys was safe here. 

“I know, my brother was a fool, but he was also the rightful heir to the iron throne.” 

Jorah laughed at that. 

“Did I say something funny, Ser?” She asked, baffled. 

“Forgive me, Khaleesi, but Aegon the Conqueror didn’t conquer Westeros because he had the right, but because he could and was hungry for power.” 

“And because he had dragons,” Dany said, looking fascinated. 

“Oh yes, and because he had dragons. Makes things a lot easier, doesn’t it?” Jorah repeated, amused. 

“You don’t believe in dragons?” She returned, amazed. 

“No, Khaleesi. I believe in what I see with my eyes. What I can touch with my hands and smell with my nose. Have you ever seen a dragon? Besides, it was three hundred years ago. How are we supposed to know what happened back then?” 

Before she could answer anything, he had stopped to look around. 

He was a little nervous. 

“I’m going to check if there are any news from Pentos… I’ll catch up to you again.” 

“Well, I can come with you.” 

Jorah replied to the offer with a somewhat too friendly shake of the head and a somewhat too conspicuously, friendly answer. 

“No, no, don’t bother yourself. Enjoy the market!” 

With these words, he turned away as quickly as possible and hoped that Dany wouldn’t follow him. 

She didn’t. 

He exhaled in relief and looked around again. Varys’ little birds usually sought him out, not the other way around. So, he had no choice but to wait.

And there. A little boy sneaked up on him from behind and whispered his name. 

“Jorah the Andal.” 

The knight winced. 

“The spider sends a final command.” 

With his mouth open he accepted the letter. 

What was that supposed to mean? One last command? 

Viserys was dead! 

He should spy on him and kill him in extreme case.

And now he was dead! Jorah had done his job! 

The little boy was already gone when he looked up again. The knight clenched his fists and broke the seal. His jaw dropped when he read the first lines. 

That was… NO! That wasn’t part of the deal! No one had ever said something about killing Daenerys! 

He pressed his lips together and his eyes filled with tears when he reread the reason for her death. 

The usurper was afraid of Rhaego. A Targaryen with thousands of Dothraki as retinue. Robert was afraid of Jorah’s son and now he was supposed to kill him and Daenerys. 

He let out a suppressed growl and would’ve liked to hit someone. Preferably himself. 

The knight exhaled, closed his eyes, trying to calm down. 

He had to think objectively… either he killed Daenerys and his son, risking being killed himself, or he gave up his wish. He would never have a home again. The Dothraki would attack Westeros… He actually liked them, but they would destroy the country. His home. 

He opened his eyes again… He had made a decision. 

Blast Varys and his damn pardon! 

However, Varys was smart… he wouldn’t just hire Jorah to kill Daenerys. The murderer would surely be given a lord title and gold. Very much gold. Everyone on this market would find this tempting. She could be killed by anyone. 

Everyone could be an enemy! 

And all of this… just because of him! 

He had put Dany and his son in danger just because of a bleeding island! 

He started to run and bumped into people who were shouting at him angrily, but he didn’t hear them. 

He had to find Daenerys! 

She could be trapped at any moment. 

He became faster, desperately looking for her. 

“You’re too generous.” 

Her voice! 

Jorah stopped. 

“Oh, you honour me!” 

She was waiting in front of a wine stall with all her Dothraki, Kos and servants. 

“The honour, Milady, is all mine,” it came from somewhere between the wine barrels. 

The knight let out his breath, relieved. 

She was alright. 

Then he saw the wine merchant simply giving a small barrel to one of the Dothraki. A real dealer wouldn’t give away a whole wine barrel for nothing, would he? And he also spoke the common tongue… 

Was it possible…? 

Jorah wasn’t sure. 

It was absolutely unlikely that this was normal wine. 

Wasn’t it? 

“Put the barrel down, Rakharo,” he called to the Ko, coming slowly closer. 

“What’s wrong, Jorah?” Dany asked, perplexed. 

“I have a thirst.” 

To the wine merchant, he continued. 

“Open the barrel.” 

He looked just as surprised as everyone else. Maybe he was simply a very nice person… 

“Open it!” He repeated harshly.

“The wine is for the Khal and his Khaleesi, not for people of your kind,” the man contradicted meekly. 

Now Daenerys chipped in. 

“Do what he says.” 

Reluctantly, he took a small hammer and opened it. 

“Pour.” 

Jorah nodded toward a mug. 

The merchant got pale. 

“But… but that’s one of the… It’s the best wine there is. It has to-“ 

“Pour!” 

He growled and hit one of the barrels with his fist. 

Crack. 

The man shot him an anxious look, grabbed the mug and held it under the tap. It got filled with blood red wine. His hand was jittering when he reached Jorah the mug and said, “Sweetest wine from Arbor.” 

The knight took a smell at the wine, but didn’t take his eyes off the other man. 

“Do you smell the sweet fruit? Taste it, Milord, taste it!” 

Jorah glanced at Dany. 

She shook her head impalpably. 

“You first,” he replied as he turned back to the other man whose eyes widened immediately. 

“Me? No… no, no, no,” he laughed mildly. 

“What kind of a merchant would drink his own wine?” 

“You will drink!” Daenerys snapped and only the knight noticed the shake in her voice. 

He wanted her to feel a little safer and took a small step closer. 

The wine merchant finally took the mug and raised it in the air as if he were saying a silent toast. Everyone looked at him expectantly. But he didn’t drink. 

Instead, he grabbed the barrel and threw it at Daenerys. 

Jorah had expected it and pulled her to his chest just in time. Her back to him, so he had a lot of silver hair in his face and inadvertently inhaled her sweet scent. One hand lay protectively over hers that covered her stomach, the other one was on her breast. 

The trader had tried to escape in the meantime, but Aggo caught him with his whip and he fell on the floor lengthways. 

Jorah released Daenerys, who was startled and turned to him with tears in her eyes. 

“I-I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” He asked shocked. 

She shook her head, but couldn’t stop her tears from falling. He didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her. 

“It’s alright now,” he whispered, but she still couldn’t stop. 

“I…” 

She sniffed. 

“I thought, now that my brother is dead…, I could live in peace… without fearing being killed at any time. But without him, it only got worse!” 

He buried a hand in her hair and waited for her to look up. 

“Hey… I will always be there for you. I promise. You don’t have to be afraid!” 

She returned his encouraging smile and said softly: “I know… My sweet bear.” 

She laughed, still sniffing and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. 

“I don’t think we should continue staying around like this. We’re being watched.” She murmured. 

He looked around briefly. 

As long as they weren’t observed by the Dothraki, everything was fine. 

“Just let them watch…,” he muttered, pulling Dany into a hug again. 

“Are you well, moon of my life?” Khal Drogo asked the Khaleesi worried and angry at the same time. 

He had broken up his hunt immediately after hearing about the market incident. 

She nodded and lovingly returned his kiss. 

Jorah stood literally right next to her and clenched his teeth automatically. 

Then the Khal suddenly turned to him. 

“I was told that it was you who exposed the wine merchant… I have a gift for you.” 

He took a step closer and whispered in his ear: “I’m not going to kill you for touching the moon of my life as I have been told you did. The next time I hear something like that, I’ll do it.” 

What?! How could he know about that? 

Jorah opened his mouth to contradict the Khal, but he already turned back to Daenerys. 

“I have also a gift for my son!” 

He turned to the other Dothraki who were standing around the fire and shouted: “I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. The Iron Throne! I swear to the mother of mountains. We will cross the poisoned water and slaughter the Westerosi that stand in our way! We will slaughter them, rape their wives and make their children our slaves! I swear it to the mother of all mountains!” 

Drogo kept yelling, but Jorah stopped paying attention to his words. He had noticed the look which Dany gave the Khal. He had always thought she wouldn’t feel anything for him, but her eyes had been speaking volumes lately… volumes that told something else. 

But that was impossible. 

What about him? 

What about their son?

Jorah slowly rode next to Dany through the city, which the Dothraki were just plundering. Her Kos were behind them. The poisoner was long dead. He had only made three miles. 

“I thought the Dothraki don’t believe in money,” the Khaleesi said. “

They don’t, but they need money to buy ships, whether they do believe in it or not.” 

“So, this is all because of me?” 

“These are lamb men, Khaleesi. They are not to be mourned,” Rakharo’s voice sounded behind them. 

“What does he mean by lamb men?” she asked Jorah. 

“They are usually called Lhazareen. They are peaceful people and believe in the great shepherd. Most of them are shepherds themselves and have sheep. The Dothraki mockingly call them lamp men, because they think that the Lhazareen are so connected to sheep that they even sleep with them”, Jorah explained. 

Eventually they had to get off their horses because a felled statue blocked their way.

Sadly, Dany looked around. She obviously didn't like what was happening here. 

In front of them some women were driven into a kind of enclosure. Screaming and scratching they defended themselves but the Dothraki had whips and Arakhs and they had no problem using them. One of the horsemen took a young woman aside and wanted to mount her. She tried to run away, but the Dothraki beat her and held her down. 

"Jorah, help this woman. Make him stop," Dany commanded her knight. 

"Khaleesi?" 

What good would that do? 

"You heard me, Ser! Rakharo, Kovarro, help Ser Jorah." 

But they hesitated as well. 

"What is it? Help this girl! Now!" 

"Khaleesi, these men have shed blood for Khal Drogo, now they claim a reward... It is an honour for a sheep to be mounted by a horse," Rakharo said. 

She shot an angry look at Jorah and the Kos, whereupon he sighed and hurried to the woman. 

"Hey! Take your hands off her!", the knight growled at the man who was about to rape the woman. 

"You don’t give me orders," he replied. 

"I don't, but the Khaleesi does." 

Jorah pointed at her. 

The Dothraki spat on the ground before him. 

"Let her come herself. Then I might fuck her as well," he laughed sardonically. 

Jorah clenched his fists. 

"She is your Khaleesi!" 

"I don't care about that. I'm sure Khal Drogo would agree with me when I say she's far too soft to make the right decisions." 

Bam! 

Jorah had punched the man in the face with his fist. 

"Say that again...!" he threatened. 

With his nose bleeding the Dothraki took a step back and tried to pull his arakh but left it stuck then. 

"You're lucky your friends are coming to help you!" he hissed and disappeared cursing towards the city centre where Khal Drogo was probably located. 

His eyes filled with hatred Jorah watched him for a while before he realized that his knuckles were hurting quite a bit. He might had struck a bit too hard...

"...it is my right. How can you expect me to fight for you if I'm not rewarded?" 

With terrible foreboding, Jorah followed the Khaleesi to the Khal. Before him stood the Dothraki whom Jorah had beaten this morning. So, he had indeed went to the Khal and wailed back at him. Behind Jorah were all the women who followed the Khaleesi who had saved them from being raped. 

"Moon of my life," said Drogo looking at Daenerys. 

"Mago says you took a lamb's daughter from him. Is he telling the truth?" 

Dany took a step closer. 

"Mago speaks the truth, but I could not watch him abuse this woman. If he wants to mount her, he should marry her and ask her permission first." 

Everyone around the Khaleesi laughed. 

"We are at war, moon of my life. We will do with these women as we please. They are slaves. You don't ask slaves for something, you command them," Drogo explained indulgently to the Khaleesi. 

"Well, it pleases me to know they are safe. As I said before, when a Dothraki wants to mount a Lhazareen, he should first marry her as decency demands!" she flared up. 

"I'm not marrying a lamb girl just because I want to fuck her! A horse does not marry a sheep!" Mago said angrily. 

"Remember who I am. I am a dragon. And a dragon eats horses and sheep alike!" Daenerys frowned at the Dothraki. 

"You don’t give me orders, foreigner!" 

"I am Khaleesi. In fact, I do." 

Drogo was smiling, 

"Look how wild she's become. That is my son in her. He lights her fire." 

Jorah swallowed... 

Dany smiled back. 

"I don't want to hear any more of this, Mago. Find a knothole to stick your cock into." 

Mago turned turkey red and spat on the floor in front of Drogo. 

"A Khal who obeys a foreigner is no Khal!" 

He drew his arakh and pointed defiantly at the Khal. 

Jorah took a step forward and carefully pushed Dany away from the fighting. 

Qotho, a blood rider of the Khal, also drew his arakh and was about to attack Mago, but Drogo held him back. 

"I won’t burn your body when I am finished with you," the Khal growled to Mago and rose. 

"You are not worthy." 

He took a step forward. 

Mago raised his weapon in warning so that it bore deeper into his chest with each inch the Khal approached. Khal Drogo stepped forward in demonstration. 

"Do you think I care about a small scratch?" he asked provocatively. 

"No... but about this!", Mago replied, swinging for a deadly strike. 

The Khal ducked away in time and even laughed. He pulled two knives from their sheath, one in each hand. 

"Let’s be fair." 

He dropped the knives deliberately. 

Dany gasped for breath, frightened.

Jorah still held her tightly for fear she might be seized by folly and walk between the fighters or be accidentally hit by a stray hit. 

"I'll piss on you and move on with the Khalasar," Drogo promised gloatingly as he avoided another attack. 

"First you have to kill me," the other shouted angrily and swung out with his Arakh. 

The Khal grabbed his arm and twisted it so that Mago slit his own throat. 

"I already have." 

Mago slumped down as Drogo let go of him and went back to his seat to sit down again. 

Daenerys twisted out of Jorah's grip and ran to him. 

"My sun and stars! You are hurt!" 

"That's nothing but a scratch, moon of my life..." Drogo tried to calm her, but it didn't work. 

"Where are the healers?" 

Everyone looked around. 

"I could help. I was a healer in this city and I know my-" 

The supposed healer fell silent when Qotho admonished her with his arakh. 

"The Khal needs no help from men who sleep with their sheep." 

He scornfully pushed her back to the other women Dany had brought. 

"She is mine. Let her speak, Qotho," the Khaleesi commanded. 

"Thank you, Silver Lady," said the healer and stepped forward again. 

"Who are you?" Daenerys asked her. 

"My name is Mirri Maz Duur. I was god’s wife and healer in this city." 

"Maegi", the Blood Rider interrupted her and spat on the ground before her. 

She tried to ignore it and continued, "My mother was before me and her mother before her. My mother taught me that the smallest scratch can kill the biggest and strongest man if it gets infected. And the wound of the Khal is much more than just a scra-" 

Smack. 

Qotho had slapped the Maegi. 

"The Khal is well. He has no need of you!" 

"Qotho! What if Drogo dies because of your stubbornness? Let her help," Dany rebuked him, turning to her husband she continued: "My sun and stars, let her help you. It hurts my heart to see you hurt!" 

She looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded reluctantly and Mirri Maz Duur rushed up to take a closer look. 

"He must come with me to my temple. I have my herbs and ointments there." 

Jorah had observed all this and had not made a sound... he agreed with Qotho, though. 

A Maegi was not trusted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've changed a few things here, especially in the market scene because it's simply stronger and brings up more inner conflicts if Jorah is supposed to kill Daenerys AND his own son. It wasn't necessary and at first I didn't even write it like that but I think it's kinda better like this... Dunno why I had to explain that lol


	7. …when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east…

Khal Drogo had fallen off his horse. 

A Khal who could not ride was no longer a Khal. 

Without the Khal, Daenerys would not be accepted as Khaleesi. 

If she was not accepted, she would be in danger. 

Danger meant usually death among the Dothraki. 

No! 

Jorah wouldn’t let that happen! 

Never! 

Daenerys couldn't die. 

He didn't know exactly what he meant to her but he loved her... Khal Drogo would be alright. At least he hoped so. He had not seen the Khal for several days. He'd fallen off his horse yesterday and Dany had ordered to set up camp immediately. So they had stopped in the middle of nowhere. 

"Jorah the Andal, you shall come to the Khaleesi," Jhiquis' voice tore him out of his thoughts. 

Surprised, he looked up. 

"Why?", he asked pointlessly. 

"Just come," the servant said and left again. 

He picked himself up and hurried to the Khal’s tent. 

"Khaleesi," he greeted Daenerys before he entered to announce his coming. 

"Jorah, come in." 

As soon as he did, a foul odour struck him. It smelled of decay and death. 

"He is very strong. Why does no one understand how strong he is?" Dany said desperately. 

She had already lost so much and now she would lose her husband, who she apparently really loved. 

Jorah looked at the Khal with bitterness... 

He had dark rings under his eyes and was all sweaty, there were laying some leaves on the spot where the cut was, to disinfect the wound. 

"Send your servants out of the tent," he told Dany. 

She nodded at them and when they were alone, the knight knelt down beside the Khal. He pulled out his dagger and carefully removed the leaves with the blade. The flesh underneath was all black from decay and it stank even more. 

"He will die tonight, Daenerys. I'm... I'm truly sorry..." 

"No.” 

She tried to supress a sob. 

“No! He cannot die! He just can’t! I... I won't let him die!" 

"No queen can affect death," Jorah said, trying to keep calm. 

"We must go now while we still can. I heard there are safe ports in Asshai or on the Jade Sea, but most importantly is that we leave now." 

He got up. 

"I will certainly not leave Drogo! And... and even if he’d die, why should I run? I am Khaleesi and my son will be Khal after Drogo." 

"That’s how it works in Westeros. Here in the great grass sea, there's no blood law but the right of the strongest," Jorah explained. 

Daenerys swallowed. 

"Once Drogo is dead, the strongest of the Khalasar will fight to become Khal. They'll feed our son to the dogs and take you to the Dosh Khaleen without you or me being able to stop it." 

"I won't leave him behind anyway!" Daenerys repeated angrily. 

Stricken, Jorah lowered his head. 

Was he not enough? 

Did she really prefer to spend the rest of her life with the Dosh Khaleen instead of him? 

Suddenly he heard a babble of voices behind him. As he looked around, Qotho just pushed Mirri Maz Duur into the tent. She went straight to the Khal, looking at the wound. 

"It became infected... He should not have removed my envelope. These leaves have only made matters worse." 

"You did this, Maegi," the Blood Rider cursed furiously and drew his dagger. 

"No! I don't want her hurt. She's probably the only one left who can save the Khal," Dany stopped him. 

"No? You don't want her to get hurt? Be glad I don’t hurt you," he hissed back. 

"Remember who you’re speaking to, Qotho. She is still your Khaleesi," Jorah admonished coolly but threateningly and stepped closer. 

"She is still the Khaleesi. But when the blood of my blood dies, she is nothing anymore," he claimed. 

Daenerys rose to her full height, which was not much but the fire in her eyes was enough to make you forget about that. 

"I am of the blood of the dragon! I have never been and never will be nothing!" 

"But the dragons are all dead, Khaleesi," Qotho replied dryly and left the tent without another word. 

"I think you should go and put on your armour, Jorah," Dany said. 

"I think you’re right," he agreed and made his way to his tent. 

If she would stay... so would he. 

For now. 

By the time he got back, a whole lot of Dothraki had gathered outside the Khal’s tent. He squeezed between them and when he reached the entrance, Daenerys stepped out. She was covered in blood and seemed more exhausted than ever. 

"What have you done?" he asked in consternation. 

"I must save him somehow!" 

They were being watched by the whole crowd expectantly, hostile or dismayed. 

He took Dany by the arm and tried to push them through the crowd, when suddenly a bloodcurdling scream sounded from the tent. A scream that could not have come from any being of this world. 

Shocked, he looked back. 

"No! This cannot be! You should have let him go in peace!" 

Qotho pushed his way through the crowd and stared at the tent with an expression that was difficult to interpret. But when he saw Daenerys, it turned to hatred. 

"Yes, it had to be done," Dany contradicted. 

Jorah stepped in front of her, as the blood rider was obviously very angry, especially at the Khaleesi.   
"Maegi!" he cursed Dany. 

Rakharo placed a hand on his shoulder to appease him. 

"Come on, Qotho, you don't have to-" 

But the Ko could not finish as the blood rider slammed his elbow into his face. There was a loud crack and Rakharo retreated holding his nose. Now that he was no longer in his way, Qotho wanted to run into the tent. 

But Dany stepped in his way. Jorah had tried to stop her but she had been too fast. 

"You can't go in there now!" 

In response, the blood rider pushed her out of the way. 

Daenerys landed on the ground and moaned in pain as her chin was scratched by the rough sand. She had tried to catch the fall but her stomach had been too big. 

"No further, horse lord," Jorah growled, clenching his teeth and drew his sword. 

He wanted to help Daenerys, but he knew he had to stop the blood rider from entering the tent first. 

Qotho looked at him briefly, then he jumped into the air, pulled his arakh and started with an attack on his head from above, which the knight could repel. The Dothraki attacked him again from above and from below. He hadn't been able to dodge the lower attack and now blood ran down his cheek. The next hit had been aimed at Jorah's ribs, but he just let himself fall and skilfully got up again. 

They looked at each other, eyes filled with hatred, breathing heavily. 

Now it was Jorah's turn to attack. He thrust his sword forward but the Dothraki could evade. Then Qotho spun once to gain momentum and landed a hit. His arakh cut through the chain mail, into the knight's skin and got stuck in Jorah's hipbone. He gasped but he didn't feel the pain yet, so he gathered all his strength, held the arakh tight with one hand and swung the sword for the deadly strike. Qotho was too busy to get his weapon free again so he didn’t see the sharp blade coming and therefore couldn't avoid it. 

Blood splashed out and the blood rider's body fell lifeless to the ground. 

Only now the pain struck Jorah like a lightning. He gritted his teeth, ran to Daenerys and knelt down next to her. 

"Rhaego... he... he's... he's coming," she gasped. 

She lay backwards on the floor, holding her stomach. Jhiqui sat next to her and tried to help her up, but Dany was too weak. 

No... NO! Not now goddammit! That was the most unfitting moment the boy could have chosen. 

"Fetch the midwives!" Jorah told Rakharo, fighting for air. 

"They will not come, they say she is cursed," Jhiqui said. 

No! Everything went wrong! 

"They will come! They have to! I will behead them if they don't!" he growled angrily, fearing for Dany. 

"The Maegi says she could help when the time comes," said Rakharo, who was still holding his nose. 

Jorah looked at the tent. 

Mirri Maz Duur had started singing a chant in a language he did not know. One could still hear occasional roars and screams from inside. 

He swallowed hard.

If that was the only way to help... 

Ser Jorah carefully put one arm under Daenerys' back and the other one under her legs. Even more carefully, he stood up and lifted her. She wasn't very heavy but he was terrified he might drop her. Besides, his hip was quite sore. 

He made a hesitant step at first and then carried her to the tent. 

He stopped briefly in front of the entrance. 

"No... don't... don't go inside," muttered Daenerys. 

He would have loved to listen to her, but that was the only way to help her. 

So Jorah entered.

"What do you mean by he's dead?" Jorah asked in consternation. 

"I brought the Khaleesi to you to keep her and Rhaego alive!" 

"You interrupted the ceremony. That’s strictly forbidden. You’re lucky that you and the Khaleesi are still alive," replied Mirri Maz Duur. 

They stood in the tent of the Khal and the Khaleesi. She lay unconscious on her bed, completely pale and breathing a bit clumsily. 

The knight struggled not to collapse... 

His son was dead! 

Daenerys was unconscious. 

What would she do when she found out about all of this? 

"The son would never have survived anyway; he was deformed and-" 

"Yes, you’ve told me that already!" he hissed angrily and just couldn't look the Maegi in the eyes... 

"What about Khal Drogo? You wanted to save him! You were supposed to keep him alive!" 

"He is alive," said the witch, looking at the Khal with a smile who was laying on the other side of the tent. 

His whole body was flaccid. He said nothing. His eyes stared into the void. He was just a shell of his former self. 

Jorah snorted. 

"It was truly a mistake to trust you." 

He left the tent and charged Aggo, who stood outside to watch over the Khaleesi. The knight narrowed his eyes to look around. 

Every time he left a tent, the camp shrank a little.

Pono, one of the Kos of Khal Drogo, had appointed himself Khal and was the first to leave, with him almost a third of the Dothraki who had once followed Khal Drogo. 

Jhaqo, another Ko of Khal Drogo, had also left shortly afterwards, with him the good half of those who had still been here and followed him as subjects. So he was now Khal Jhaqo. 

After that, scattered flocks had left to look for the new Khals and to join them after all. 

Now there were about three hundred Dothraki and fifty horses left and the numbers were decreasing. 

He would have wept if the sun hadn't taken so much water from his body. He didn't know when he had last drunk or eaten. He would only have to go to one of the storage tents, but he had no thirst or appetite. 

All at once the rest of the people crawled out of their tents and came to him shouting loudly. 

"We want to see the Khal!" 

"Show us Drogo.” 

"Is the Khal dead?” 

They pestered him with questions and demands. 

Rakharo rushed to his side. His nose was restored to some measure. It had been three days since the battle with Qotho. Jorah had only been allowed to go into the Khal’s tent today to check on the Khaleesi. 

"The Khal is too weak to come out," Dany’s Ko tried to calm the crowd. 

"A weak Khal is no Khal!" they shouted back. 

The knight took a shaky breath and tried to control himself... but his hands just wouldn't stop shaking. 

Turning to Rakharo, he said so loud that only he could hear it: "We should... get him out. Maybe the light of the sun will help him get back to his old self and they..." 

He beckoned to the crowd of Dothraki. 

"...finally calm." 

Rakharo paused to consider and nodded his head, then he disappeared into the tent. 

A short while later, he came back, leading Drogo carefully beside him, but he had to give him slight pushes again and again. 

Suddenly the crowd fell silent. 

A little frightened, they looked at the Khal. He just stood there, looking at the sun. He seemed to enjoy the warmth.

"Maybe we should put him in the sun," Jorah said. 

"There are two rocks over there that can protect him from the cold wind. The sun shines there without any problem." 

The Ko hummed approvingly and stumbled with the Khal to the rocks, dividing the crowd in front of them. 

Jorah was about to step into the tent again when Irri came hurrying up. 

"There is a problem, Jorah the Andal. Another group wanted to leave and wanted to take almost all our supplies with them. Kovarro was able to stop them but now they are fighting. We don't need any injured people," she said. 

Jorah got a bad conscience. 

He used up quite a bit of the supply of medicinal herbs due to his two injuries. 

"I'll be right there," he replied briefly and assured himself that there was a guard standing outside the tent. Then he followed the servant. 

She hurried straight to the middle of the steadily shrinking camp. They were greeted by quarrelsome voices. 

"You can't take all of this with you! We need it here! If you want something, stay with us," Kovarro called out to the leader of the group. 

"We take what we want! You can't stop us anyway," he replied. 

"Yeah? Then try and get past me, weakling!" the Ko challenged the other Dothraki. 

"I could easily defeat you in a fair fight! But the knight would kill me before I could do the same to you!" 

"So you're afraid of him? Maybe you should fight the Andal." 

"I'm not afraid... it's just… not every man could have killed Qotho..." 

The two of them had apparently not noticed Jorah so he cleared his throat. 

"What is this about?" he asked, although he actually knew. 

"Chenak wants to run away with all our supplies," Kovarro explained. 

"You are one fifth of the people who are still present, then you will only get one fifth of the supplies," the knight said to Chenak. 

He stared at him sincerely. 

"Of course, we could also kill you all, because you deserted. So think carefully about what you do. Especially you, Chenak," the knight added threateningly. 

When nobody replied, he ordered: "Kovarro, take a few men and see that this group doesn't take too many supplies. If they do, you have my permission to kill them." 

With these words he turned away and went to the tent of the Khaleesi. 

He relieved Rakharo from the guard and sat down on the chair he had sat on all too often. He turned his gaze to Dany. 

She was so beautiful... he would always love her. No matter what she would say or do. 

Was that a mistake? Was it a mistake to follow his heart? 

Until now he had done so all his life and he was not dead yet... But who knew how his life would have turned out if he had acted logically and with reason as his duties demanded? 

Would it be better to leave all of this behind? 

Shouldn't he just leave Dany? 

It would make his life much easier... 

What would be a logical decision? 

Well, staying here. Wouldn't it? 

He couldn't possibly go anywhere alone. 

Not here. 

Not now that Drogo’s Khalasar was getting smaller every day. 

Not when Dany needed him more than ever. 

Maybe he would stop loving her now that her son was dead, now that she obviously didn't love him anymore. 

Somehow, he hadn’t realized that at any given moment... it had simply become clearer with every day that had passed. 

So he had only ever looked at her bitterly, but never really mourned the fact... 

Should he be mourning over something like that? Should he be angry? A combination perhaps... 

He'd never experienced anything like this ever before. It had been a punch in his face when Lynesse had left him. This was more like a scarf that they put around your neck and that warms you at first... but then it gets tighter and tighter, you can't escape and you end up getting strangled. He wasn't strangled yet... but he was struggling to breathe pretty hard. 

"Jorah?" 

He looked up in shock. 

When Daenerys looked at him with tired but friendly eyes, he immediately slipped from his chair and knelt down beside her. 

"What...happened? Where's... where's Rhaego?" 

Jorah had tried to smile at her encouragingly, but his smile froze at those words. 

He had been preparing himself to tell her, but... but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

"Where is my son?" she repeated now no longer confused but worried and it seemed as if she already knew and just did not want to admit it. 

When he said nothing, just sitting in front of her with his mouth half open, she began to search in the tent with her eyes. But she didn’t find anything. 

She looked at the knight again and asked in a half-stifled voice: "Where is he?!" 

He couldn't return her gaze. 

He couldn't look into those huge, violet eyes. 

"He... has never lived." 

He became quieter with every word that escaped his mouth. Jorah wasn't even sure if he had actually uttered the last word out loud, but Dany had understood and shook her head in disbelief. 

"No," she said. 

"No... that can't be. That’s a lie." 

"It's not," Miri's voice came up behind him. 

She had entered the tent and seemed to be the only one not feeling sad. 

The Khaleesi looked up, startled and with a hint of madness in her gaze. 

"What happened?" 

"You don’t want to know that," the Maegi replied. 

Daenerys shook her head to deny those words. 

"I do. Tell me what happened!" 

Unperturbed, Mirri Maz Duur looked her and explained: "I would not speak of your son. It was no human. It was monstrous. Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of gravewo-“ 

“Enough!” Jorah interrupted her gruffly, as he could no longer listen to her talk of his son. 

He hadn’t been there, but the Maegi had described it several times in such detail that he had nightmares about it. 

Dany seemed to be in a kind of trance. Her empty look was glassy into nothingness. When Jorah carefully reached for her hand and squeezed it a little, she focused on him. 

"And... what about Drogo?" 

He pulled his hand back... a little too quickly. 

"We can talk about this la-" 

"Where is my husband?" she interrupted him, as her anger rose. 

"Show me what happened to him." 

He swallowed. 

Somehow, he was angry. He didn't know because of what, he just was. 

"Come with me," said Mirri and stepped out of the tent again. 

Daenerys picked herself up as fast as she could and followed her without paying attention to Jorah who was still kneeling beside her bed. 

That hurt. 

He ignored the pain in his heart and left the tent. 

He had to hurry to keep up. 

The Maegi led her to a small rise and then disappeared behind a rock. Then Dany. 

As Jorah circled it, he found the Khal leaning against one of the larger rocks, staring into the sun. The Khaleesi ran towards him and kissed him happily, but he did not react. She blinked and looked at him confused. 

"What is it, my sun and stars?" 

The knight felt sorry for Dany, but somehow a feeling of satisfaction flowed through him at the sight. He knew it wasn't right, but it felt good. 

"What have you done to him?" Daenerys hissed at the Maegi. 

The Maegi said insensitively, "You have paid for life. He lives." 

"This is no life! When will he be back to normal again?" 

Mirri smiled. 

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.” 

Dany's facial muscles showed no sign of movement, but you could clearly see her inexpressible rage. 

"Leave us alone, Jorah!" she commanded and walked towards the witch. 

He, who stood between them, slowed her down and stepped in her way. 

"I don’t want to leave you alone with her." 

"Why not? I have nothing to lose anymore," she said and flitted past him. 

He looked at her in disbelief... 

She had him after all.


	8. a dragons' song

The afternoon had come and gone and he had spent the evening sitting on a rock, staring into the distance. 

Daenerys wasn’t in the state to give any instructions yet, so the camp had taken matters into its own hands, for better or worse. Just like the past few days, when Dany had been lying in that feverish sleep. 

The knight would have helped her, but she refused to talk to anyone who was not Khal Drogo or one of the dragon eggs. He understood that she was sad, but he did not understand how little he meant to her now. As if he was just another man in her service. 

And he wasn’t even in her service! 

He had never committed himself to her. Only to her brother, and he was dead. 

He had only stayed with her because he loved her... and she had loved him. 

But now? 

She didn't love him anymore... He didn't even know if he still meant anything to her at all. 

The knight had wanted to get up a few times that day and just go. He was tired of thinking about leaving the camp all the time and yet somehow knowing that he would never do it. And he was really thinking about that all the time. 

Exasperated, he got up and walked through the darkness to his tent. 

Where would it go from here? 

Daenerys could not mourn over Drogo forever. 

Jorah avoided a small group of Dothraki who were drunk and talking about horses. 

What else could they possibly talk about…? 

Only now had he really thought about the fact that Daenerys no longer loved him... and apparently didn't even consider him a friend anymore. It seemed unrealistic to him, but that's what happened. 

Why had he wanted to save Dany? 

He stopped and wanted to slap himself. 

He was out of line. 

It was only human that Daenerys had not treated him today as she had done the months before. After all, her son had died and her husband ... whom she loved ... well, he was just an empty shell. A body without a spirit. 

Dany needed Jorah now more than ever! 

How could he even think about betraying her again? 

How could he even think about leaving her? 

When he looked up again, he saw Irri and Jhiqui coming towards him, talking fast about something in Dothraki. 

But… but weren’t they supposed to stay with Daenerys? 

"What are you doing here? Is something wrong with the Khaleesi?” he asked anxiously and realized that he couldn't simply stop caring about her. 

Irri just said, "She sent us away." 

"I don't think she is well, but we can't help her," Jhiqui added and the two went on. 

The knight bit his lip. 

Should he go to her? 

He decided to just make his way to her tent. He could still turn. 

When he saw the target, he slowed and wanted to turn away immediately, but he was already here ... he could do this. 

As soon as he reached the tent and slowly pulled back the leather to enter, he cursed himself. 

Why? Why couldn’t he just leave? 

But it was really too late now. 

"Daenerys?" 

He dared not to enter fully without her consent. 

No reply. 

"If you want me to leave, just say so," he said awkwardly. 

Still no answer. 

And there! Was that a sob? 

"Daenerys?" he said, now really rattled. 

What was going on? 

He entered the tent anyways and walked a few steps further. But he didn’t see Dany. 

The coal pans were glowing more than ever, the air was even a bit foggy and the dragon eggs had been newly put in their box. The knight’s eyes wandered over the bed, over the pile of cushions next to it, over all the boxes filled with clothes, and only when he turned around, he noticed that Dany was lying on or under another pile of cushions. 

She held one of them in her hand and pressed it onto something she was sitting on. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Her mourning was silent. 

And Jorah suddenly realized who she was sitting on. 

It was Drogo! 

Finally, she let go of him and now she fell loudly crying on the pillows that lay beside her. 

"Daenerys!" 

He didn't know what to do. 

Slowly he took a few steps towards her, but then he wasn't sure if that was appropriate anymore. 

But he walked on and sat down beside her. 

She only looked up at him when he reached out for her. 

"Just leave me alone!" she sobbed and buried her nose back in the pillows. 

Jorah pulled his hand back immediately. 

"I'm sorry", he started, but Dany was faster. 

"No, get out of here! Just go! Everything would be better without you!" 

Shocked by her anger and a little angry himself, he got up again. 

"What are you talking about? How is this my fault?" 

The Khaleesi had got up too. 

"If you had behaved like a knight, this would never have happened.” 

"Daenerys… W-what are you talking about?" 

She moved closer to him and said shakily: "If you hadn't come to me that night, I wouldn't have got pregnant!" 

Now he understood her problem. 

At least he thought so. 

"So, I made you kiss me? I made you take off my shirt? I made you -?" 

Slap. 

The knight held his cheek, surprised and hurt at the same time. Daenerys had bitch slapped him. 

"Don't you dare speak to me like that," she hissed, lightening the fire inside her. 

He realized what he had just said... 

"Forgive me, I didn't mean-" 

"Oh, I think you have expressed it very clearly," she said low-voiced and with unmistakable anger in her voice. 

"I should leave," he decided, not sure whether he meant to leave the tent or leave completely. 

"Yes, you should", Dany growled. 

At least one thing they agreed on. 

At the exit he turned to her once more. 

"I'm really-" 

"Leave!" 

"Yes," he said quietly and then he really left. 

He'd never seen his Khaleesi so angry. Not at him. 

It really did head south.

Today Khal Drogo would be burned and his spirit sent to the Lands of the Night. So all the Dothraki who had stayed loyal to Daenerys and a few slaves had been gathering wood and brushwood all day like mad. 

Jorah had no part in this. 

He had lain in his tent and packed his bags. 

He couldn't bear to stay here another day. 

He would head west, hoping to cross Meereen or Astapor. 

Jorah sat on his bed and looked around. 

Had he forgot anything important to pack into his bag? Apart from his heart, which would always belong to Daenerys… forev- 

Alright, he had to stop being so dramatic... it had never been something serious... an one-time thing.

He picked up his bags and headed to the pasture where the horses were grazing. 

From a distance he could hear some raised voices. It seemed that Khal Drogo was soon to be cremated. 

But he didn’t care. He did not even turn when he heard an angry cry. 

It probably came from the Maegi. She would get her punishment. 

What would Daenerys do to him if she found out he had been a spy? 

Well, he'd probably never see her again, so it wasn't his problem. 

Shadow stood a bit away from the other remaining animals and raised his head expectantly when he saw Jorah coming towards him with a saddle. It seemed he could hardly wait to get away from here either. 

As soon as the knight had lashed the girth and fastened the bags, he tightened the bridle on his horse and threw the reins over his head. Again, he heard howling from on the other side of the camp, but he just climbed onto Shadow’s back and directed him westwards. 

The sun had already set, but there was still a slight glow of the last daylight. 

He was just about to let Shadow gallop, when suddenly Rakharo came stumbling out between the tents. 

"Jorah!" 

Seven hells?! 

He couldn't just leave, could he?! 

"Wait! Where are you going? You must save the Khaleesi! She wants to burn herself with Drogo! She wants to go up in the flames!" 

The knight looked at the Ko in dismay. 

He couldn’t leave her alone for one single second, could he? 

Without answering, he tore up Shadow and galloped off. And so he rushed between the tents and soon reached the small gathering of people. There were maybe a hundred Dothraki. 

He jumped off his stallion, pushed his way through them and started shouting from afar: "Daenerys! Wait!" 

He ran and ran, his lungs burning and suddenly the outer brushwood circle inflamed. The heat wave hit him hard and slowed him down for a moment. 

"Daenerys!” 

She handed Aggo the very torch she'd used to light it. 

Mirri Maz Duur stood tied to one of the posts supporting Khal Drogo's platform. She sang a chant, waiting for the flames to reach her. 

Dany seemed to be waiting for it too. 

He almost tripped over his own feet but caught himself in time and ran on. Meanwhile the fire had reached the innermost circle and thus Drogo as well. 

Dany took a deep breath to prepare herself for the first step into the flames. 

"No!", Jorah cried out of breath and finally she heard him. 

She turned to him, he slowed and stopped in front of her. 

"Daenerys, please! Don't do this," he gasped. 

She almost smiled sadly. 

"You don't understand, I have to-" 

"No! I really don't understand, but I beg you, Daenerys, listen to me." 

She hesitated briefly, then nodded. 

He had decided... If not as man and woman, then as knight and queen. 

"I swear to serve you, to obey you, and to die for you, if need be. I will always be there for you, as your knight, if you accept me as yours," he rattled off as fast as he could. 

He would swear anything to prevent Dany from killing herself. 

"I do," she said, confused. 

"Well, then it's my duty to stop you." 

Dany's smile, which followed those words, irritated him. 

"But you also took the vow to obey me and I beg you to have at least a little faith in me." 

"But... Don't make me stand aside, as you climb on that pyre. I... I fear for you!" 

There was a brief silence. 

Then Dany pulled him down a little and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It felt like a goodbye kiss. 

When they separated again, he could no longer speak, but his eyes said everything. 

Please don't. 

The Khaleesi seemed even more confident than before. She glanced at him just once more and took a step forward... into the fire. 

And another. 

And another.

Eventually the flames swallowed her whole and Jorah couldn’t see her anymore. 

He felt all the power draining from his body and buckled. 

_I beg you to have at least a little faith in me._

Oh, he had faith in her, but not in the fire... 

Only the crackling of the flames broke through the silence of the night. 

The Dothraki had taken to a praying position. Only Jorah seemed lost and out of place. 

Everything had been destroyed. 

Little by little. 

Bear Island meant nothing to him compared to Dany and he had lost her just a few moments ago. 

But actually, he had lost her long before.

One step. 

One more. 

Why did he even do this? 

One more. 

One more. 

Jorah forced himself to drag his body to the burning pyre. 

He had got up in the middle of the night and gone to his cleared-out tent to sleep. 

He didn’t know, why he came back here. 

He was followed by Dany's Kos, who had not been able to sleep here either. 

They came closer and closer to the pyre and the knight thought he heard something like soft cackling, but he was sure he was just imagining it. 

A big cloud of smoke covered half of the pile, so Jorah wasn't sure at first glance if someone was really sitting there. Because… that was impossible. It was simply impossible. 

Daenerys could not be alive! 

But then the cloud dispersed and revealed just her. 

The Dothraki, already awake, all knelt down in awe, but the knight just stood there, his mouth slightly open and struggling for words. 

When he noticed the three dragons, he almost retreated one step away in disbelief. But instead he knelt down and rasped: "Blood of my blood." 

Daenerys didn't reply but simply straightened up. Only now did he notice she was naked, but nobody seemed to care. 

The black and largest of the dragons climbed on her shoulder, the green one curled up on her arm and the golden and cream one clung to her left leg. 

And they began to sing. 

It was no longer this chattering that the knight had heard before, but it was real dragon singing. 

They sang for the dead Drogo and for the new-born Daenerys. 

They sang for the game that was just about to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo. This was the last chapter of the first part! I'm actually pretty proud of the last sentences lol they're so poetic lmao hope it didn't get too boring but as I said in the very first chapter. The good part begins with the third part, means chapter 15... though chapter 14 is really good as well. I mean obviously I love them all, I wouldn't upload this fic if I didn't xD  
> About uploading the next chapter... I planned to do so on thurstday.


	9. The Red Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Warning": I had no beta looking over this chapter xD

The sun burned down on small Khalasar that was going through the Red Waste, and made the sand shimmer. If Jorah had had the strength to walk a little faster, he would have caught up to his Khaleesi and asked her for a break, but it was hard enough for him to walk at all. 

His lips were chapped open so that it hurt to speak so he kept his mouth shut. And the wound on his hip was another strain. Before they had set out, they had possessed enough herbs to supply it so it only hurt when he rolled to his side while sleeping. But now that these herbs had run out, the pain twitched through him every second step he took. 

Jorah hadn’t dared to look at his hip, too afraid to find a wound similar to Khal Drogo's. 

The knight wiped the sweat from his forehead and stopped briefly. He needed a short break... just a few seconds. 

When he looked up to the sky, he immediately spotted the red comet they were following. Daenerys was sure it would lead them, but thanks to the comet they had wandered straight into this cursed desert. This bloody desert! 

A strange scream sounded. 

The Dothraki in front of him, stopped in horror and only a few dared to take some steps further. 

What was going on over there? 

The knight started moving and hurried as fast as he could between the people in front of him until he reached Daenerys who was kneeling on the ground next to her Silver. The horse's fur had lost its shine a long time ago, but it had apparently begun to fall out too. 

Carefully, he knelt beside his Khaleesi and put one hand on the stomach of the animal. Without a flicker. When he looked at Dany again, he saw something pleading in her eyes, but it disappeared when he shook his head apologetically. 

"She was Drogo's gift... the only thing I had left of him," she said miserably. 

"Now there’s nothing left that connects us." 

They had both decided that it would be best if they travelled on as knight and queen, rather than as man and woman who had once loved each other, and yet those words elicited an unpleasant feeling inside him. 

"I remember," he replied, although she had not exactly spoken to him. 

Daenerys paid no attention to his words, looked up again and let her gaze wander across the vast and desolate plain of the desert. 

"Does it ever end?" 

"Everything has an end, Khaleesi. Even the Red Waste. I have no idea when, though," Jorah confessed. 

"Maybe we should go back..." Dany started, but he interrupted her, shaking his head. 

"No. We could have done that a long time ago, but now it's too dangerous. We have taken so much upon ourselves to follow this comet. We have literally left a trail of corpses behind us." 

"But..." 

"If we turn back now, Daenerys, we're going to run into a Khalasar in the north. And if we go west instead, we will either be caught by the Lhazareen or another Khalasar will meet us. In the east we would have to cross an insurmountable mountain range ... at least insurmountable with the means at our disposal. We must go south. The long way out. Because whether we go west or north, they will kill us and steal your dragons, and in the east we will all die. Do you want that?" 

"No! No one will take my dragons!" she said harshly. 

"They are too weak to fight. So is the rest of the Khalasar," Jorah explained, hesitating before saying his next words. But before he could, Daenerys had made her mind up, "All right, let's keep following the comet. I suggest we set up camp here and all rest so we can continue our journey in the light of dawn. Let everyone know." 

He nodded and wanted to get up but suddenly a wave of pain overcame his body. He lost his balance and went down. His head felt like it would burst as it smashed on the ground. A constant beeping sounded in his ears; he thought he tasted sand in his mouth. 

The last thing he could remember was Daenerys crawling to him, her eyes widened in shock. 

Then he lost consciousness.

Jorah woke up, gasping. 

He couldn't see! 

"What the-?! Oh..." 

Embarrassed, he blinked at the moon, whose bright light was unbearable. Irri squatted beside him and held a damp fabric in her hands. Apparently, this had been lying on his eyes. 

"Khaleesi, he has woken up!" 

Irri's voice seemed unusually loud to him. 

Did she have to scream like that? 

He lay on a bed and tried to sit up a little straighter, but couldn't quite manage it. Tired, he brushed through his tousled hair and thus tousled it even more. 

He heard the sand crunching and thought he could make out Dany's silhouette before the moon. Her hair shone beautifully in this light and the violet of her eyes stood out even stronger than usually. 

Had she always looked so grown up? 

"You look splendid," whispered the knight almost inaudible so that she luckily didn’t understand him. 

"What did you say?" she asked and knelt down beside him, worried. 

"Nothing," he replied quickly and tried to make his voice sound a bit stronger, whereupon his whole body started shaking under his rough cough. 

Dany immediately pressed a water bottle into his hand, but he didn’t drink. 

"No. No, we have to save the water until we can refill our supplies. Somewhere..." 

She shook her head and said, "We've managed to replenish our supplies." 

Surprised, he returned her gaze. 

"Where… where are we?" 

"Vaes Tolorro. You have slept through our arrival. But that's not important now", Dany explained and Jorah suddenly realized that the light that blinded him so much was not the moon but a single star shining through a gap in the tent ceiling. 

"What is Vaes Tolorro?" he asked and took a sip of the water after all. 

"A ghost town. Aggo found it. There is more than enough water and fruit. I have decided to stay until everyone has recovered and we know where we are," she explained shortly. 

The knight nodded, trying to understand all those words. He wanted to straighten up a bit more but suddenly pain hit him again and he had to pull himself together not to cry out loud. His Khaleesi had noticed that this was due to his wound and said dryly: "One could think this wound has not done your mind much good.” 

What was that supposed to mean? 

"What do you-?" 

He stopped when he saw the tears in her eyes. 

Why- why was she-? 

"If you had been in your right mind, you would have told me about this wound! It would never have come this far!" 

He didn't know what her problem was. 

He still lived, didn’t he? 

"You nearly died, Jorah. Jhiqui saved you. If it weren't for her, you'd have been among the ghosts of this city, spooking along with them at night.” 

Daenerys got up and stumbled to the exit. She stopped for a second, though, looking back at him and said: "You would be one of my ghosts that haunts me in my dreams. " 

Stunned, he looked after her. He definitely hadn't expected a reaction like that. When Jorah looked at Irri questioningly, she said: "The Khaleesi is really angry. In fact, she was the one who was awake for nights on end and didn't sleep a wink. She only let Jhiqui clean the wound, otherwise she hardly let any of us come near you." 

That confused him even more... but somehow, he thought of it as cute. At that thought he blushed a little and could have slapped himself. 

She didn't want him anymore! 

And he didn't want her either! 

Not as long as she didn't want him... but maybe, she didn't want him, because he didn't want her, since she didn't want him. Well, he wanted her to want him, so he could want her... 

He should stop thinking about that. His head already started aching. 

But if he didn't think about this, he might start saying rash things about it, so maybe he should think about it further... 

But didn't he think too much? 

Wasn’t thinking about thinking enough thinking for a weakened body like his? Damn it! That thinking made him unable to think right anymore! 

But what was right and wrong thinking? 

What was right and wrong anyway? 

Of course, he knew that right was the opposite of wrong like light was too dark, but he could not say how to define right right. At least not as long as one could not define wrong in any other way than to say that it was the opposite to right. 

Was it right to think that he didn’t want Dany? 

Was it wrong to stifle his feelings by thinking about thinking and thinking about thinking about thinking? 

Jorah's thoughts were so confusing that he didn’t notice how Irri approached him with a sponge. When she pressed it on his wound after she had pulled back his shirt, he nearly roared. 

"What is this!? That burns like crazy!" He growled and gritted his teeth, because she kept pressing that stupid thing on is hip. 

"Stop crying! I thought you were a knight," replied the servant and dipped the sponge into a bowl until it had soaked up again. 

"I'm not crying," he contradicted with tears in his eyes and gasped for breath as she pressed this thing back onto his hip. Irri did it so often that the knight stopped counting at some point. 

He closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. Then he fell asleep again.


	10. Vaes Tolorro

The next morning, he opened his eyes oddly optimistically and would have loved to jump up to stretch and explore the city immediately, but his injury didn’t allow it and neither did it in the following days. He just lay around, getting up three times a day at most. 

Daenerys didn't visit him but when he had started worrying, Irri had told him that she asked her every evening how he was doing. That encouraged him a little. So she cared about him after all. 

And one afternoon he decided to just get up, because he didn't feel like lying around anymore. Nobody could forbid him to stretch his legs a little ... well, basically yes, but nobody did it, so… 

Slowly he put one foot in front of the other and realized that it didn't hurt anymore. He stepped up a bit more confident and went out of the tent. It probably looked strange to see a twenty-six-year-old man strolling about a square like that, but he didn't care. 

Jorah directed his legs towards a small lane whose walls were covered with all kinds of climbing plants, and breathed in the scent of the flowers that grew between the walls. 

It was beautiful! And they lacked for nothing... 

"Ser Jorah!" 

Her voice made his head turn in a matter of milliseconds. 

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you stay in your tent and rest?" 

He swallowed. 

"I wanted to take a small trip outside. Believe it or not, but it is extremely tiring to do nothing." 

"Well, well... alright… I'll be going... to my dragons... back… Drogon certainly is annoying Viserion and Rhaegal again," she finished her conversation somewhat awkwardly and turned away. 

She seemed disappointed... but why? 

"Wait!", Jorah called after her, biting his tongue shortly afterwards, but it was already too late. 

She had turned back to him with an expectant look, waiting for him to say something. 

"Come with me," he smiled, well aware that such a thing was not really what a knight and queen would do. But Dany returned his smile and came to him. For a moment he thought she wanted to hook her arm through his, but in the end she didn’t so probably he had only imagined it. 

They walked next to each other and let their gazes wander over the partly crumbling buildings. 

"I am glad you feel better again," she said after a few steps, careful not to look him in the eyes. 

Her words made his chest fill with warmth and he had to be cautious not to let his smile grow too big. He didn’t want to let his overwhelming happiness show and just said: "Let’s go over there. It looks quite beautiful.” 

She seemed confused and only nodded in agreement. 

He recalled her words about the dragons. 

"So you have named your dragon?" he asked and somehow wasn't that happy anymore... 

"Yes. Viserion is the cream-colored one…" 

"Named after your brother?" 

She nodded and continued to enumerate: "Rhaegal is the green one, named after my other brother." 

As she said these words, he remembered the feeling he had once had when he had touched that green dragon egg. It had been a warm feeling... somehow, he felt connected to the little dragon. 

"And the black-red one... his name is Drogon. After my husband..." 

So he hadn’t misunderstood her... 

The knight's expression had taken on a slightly disgruntled look, which disappeared immediately when Dany looked at him again, albeit somewhat forced. 

"What do you think of this town?" 

"Well, I haven't seen much of it yet, but so far I think it's nice." 

"Yea, I thought so too. Irri and Jhiqui refused to enter Vaes Tolorro at first. They said it was a ghost town and you're not supposed to go there. Otherwise you would wake up the ghosts that live here.” 

"It is known?" 

Dany laughed. 

"It is known", she replied and Jorah had to smile again. 

It was good to see her laugh. 

It was good to know they could still talk normally. 

"But honestly," she went on. 

"Who believes in that?" 

"Well... don't we all have our ghosts? We carry them with us wherever we go" he replied reluctantly. 

"And who are your ghosts?" Daenerys asked him after a few seconds. 

He took a quick look at her. 

She was biting her lip bottom lip.

As he looked back at the path, he saw that they were about to come to a bend in the road. They couldn’t see what was behind it yet. 

"I'm sorry if that's too-" 

"No. It's okay… Her name was Lynesse.” 

That answer wasn’t enough for her but they had come to this bend and when they turned right her eyes widened. Jorah was pretty surprised too. 

In front of them was a small meadow with some fruit trees planted and growing. One of them was so high that its branches reached far over the small wall that probably shielded it from another garden. 

The Khaleesi walked slowly through the meadow with the grass reaching up to her hips, while Jorah strolled to the tallest tree. It was a peach tree and it was truly a miracle how it had grown this tall. 

He reached for a bough above him and pulled himself up. Surprisingly, he felt no pain in his hip. 

"Jorah, what are you doing?" Dany laughed and her face appeared behind the trunk. 

"I bet you're too small to get up here," he grinned, looking down at her teasingly. 

She returned his look exaggeratedly angry and said: "I bet I can make it even higher than you.” 

She sauntered to the tree, jumped up at once and grabbed the same bough, Jorah had just a moment ago. When she sat next to him, she gript the next bough and pulled herself up another meter. 

"I didn’t know a Khaleesi was capable of such things," he smiled and pulled himself up onto the branch next to her. 

The knight took a peach for himself and handed her one as well. When she accepted it, their fingers touched briefly and his fingertips were the happiest part of his whole body for this very brief moment. 

"So, tell me about Lynesse," she suddenly asked and he flinched in bewilderment for some reason, as if he had just been woken up. 

"Well..." he started to stutter. 

"She was my wife." 

It was weird talking to Daenerys about his first great love. 

"You talk about her like she was dead?" she noticed. 

He smiled sadly. 

"Well, actually, she is dead… at least to me," he nearly whispered and couldn’t meet Dany’s gaze. Instead, he bit into the peach and quickly wiped his chin before the juice of it dripped onto his shirt. 

"What happened?" Dany went on and bit into her peach now as well. 

He sighed. 

Seemed, like he had no choice but to tell the whole story. Daenerys would keep a stiff upper lip. 

"To understand the whole thing, you must know how I met her. I was... perhaps eighteen when I was knighted, for storming through Pyke's breach in second place. Right behind the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr. I can still remember his burning sword... Anyway, to celebrate the victory, there was a tourney at Lannisport. I was invited and I attended. I'd never been very good at jousting. You know… I had no place to practice. So, I rode my horse into the jousting ring and was terribly excited. I was the youngest knight. And then I saw her sitting in the stands. She was laughing at a joke her friend had made next to whom she was sitting, and then she let her gaze wander all over the square. When she spotted me, she whispered something to her friend who shot me a look, only to turn back to Lynesse. She blushed and avoided my gaze. But I couldn't stop looking at her. So just before the tourney started, I rode over to her to ask for her favor. Smiling shyly, she wished me luck and bent over to me so she could tie her it around my arm... Her smooth hair fell over her shoulder, right into my face. She jumped back in horror and I had to laugh. I still remember the smell of her hair... which sounds annoying when I say it out loud..." 

He chuckled and threw away the core of the peach he had just eaten. When he looked at Dany again, he thought there was a spark of resentment in her eyes, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

"And what happened next?" she asked and returned his gaze with a touch of defiance. 

"I won the tournament, crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty, and that very evening, drunk of victory and wine alike, I asked her if she would marry me. After her father had agreed, we married in Lannisport and then set off for Bear Island. Those were the best days of my life compared to what came after that..." 

"What came?" 

"Well... Lynesse was actually higher born than me and used to city life... Bear Island is pretty much the opposite of what she called home. She hated it there... I spent all my gold just to see her smile on that island... I lived to make her happy. But I failed. Eventually, we went broke, and I had to sell off those poachers ...just to arrange a passage to Braavos for her. That's when I learned Ned Stark was on his way to Bear Island to cut off my head for selling slaves. I fled immediately with Lynesse... as we ran out of money, I left her in Lys and joined the Golden Company so we could at least make ends meet. But for every stag I earned, she spent ten others... one day when I came back from a battle, she was gone. A friend told me that she had moved into the palace of a rich Lysene and would probably not come back... so I rushed to this Lysene boiling with rage and with a broken heart and really found Lynesse by his side. He said I had until the next day to leave the city, otherwise his guards would find and kill me for chasing after his new wife. His new wife was Lynesse." 

The knight broke up, surprised that he didn't have tears in his eyes. Daenerys took one of his hands in hers and gently said "Be aware of my compassion." 

He nodded thankfully. 

Fortunately, he had interrupted himself. He had been about to tell how he had sailed to Pentos and suddenly found himself in Illyrio’s palace. And also, why. 

"May I ask you another question, Jorah?" 

He looked at her again and waited for her to ask the question, but now she hesitated. 

"What did she look like?" 

"A bit like you," he replied before he could think about it. 

Dany blushed and Jorah only realized what he had just said when she got up and climbed off the tree. 

"I'm going back. Are you coming with me?", she asked from below. 

He shook his head wordlessly and she turned away... 

Had that really just happened? 

Had they really gone for a walk and climbed a tree together? 

Had he really just told her about Lynesse and that Daenerys looked a bit like her? 

That was absurd. So absurd. 

It was when he climbed off the tree, that he found a peach stone. It must have been from Dany, as he had thrown his away in a high arch. 

Jorah was about to go on, when he noticed that something had been scratched into the core. He picked it up. It was a word... but a language he didn’t speak. It looked like High Valyrian. 

The knight frowned and put the core in his pocket. Maybe one day he'd find out what it meant.

"When are we finally going to leave this city?" Aggo asked his Khaleesi, almost a bit annoyed and at any rate bored. 

"As soon as we know where we want to go. Sometimes I have the feeling that it might be even better to settle down here until my dragons are fully grown...", she replied and gave her children a look. 

She had a few of her Dothraki and him, her knight, gather here. He didn’t know why, though. They weren't even planning to change anything. 

Jorah stood in another corner of her tent and watched the dragons playing. 

Drogon was the strongest and biggest, which he considered a certain irony, but Rhaegal was much faster and Viserion was shrewder. 

He somehow liked the green-scaled dragon best. That was mutual. 

Sometimes Rhaegal would jump up and bite his hand playfully. Drogon and Viserion would always look on him and turn away again. 

The knight put his hand into his pouch and looked for a piece of dried meat. And he actually found one! 

Smiling, he knelt down, tore off an even smaller piece and held it out to the dragons. Viserion eyed it as if he was at least a little interested in getting the shred, his big brother didn't even notice. Rhaegal, on the other hand, came to him immediately. He sniffed at the meat and then looked at Jorah expectantly. 

He returned the look in surprise and said: "Take it. You can have it." 

But he didn’t. 

"Do I have to burn it a bit for you?" 

The knight sighed and went to the brazier. 

Drogon just hopped to the box next to him, where Dany kept her clothes, and which she apparently used as a little storage table too. The black-red dragon jumped on it and started pulling on a small book. He almost managed to throw it down, but his mother noticed him and tore it out of his claws in fright as if her life depended on it. 

"Drogon!" 

A note fell out of the book and landed at Jorah's feet. 

Daenerys hadn't noticed it, because she was carrying Drogon back to his siblings. The knight picked it up. 

What did it say? Was that High Valyrian as well? What was this book? Maybe some kind of diary? 

"Khaleesi…" 

She turned to him. 

He held the note out to her. 

For a moment she seemed a little shocked to see him with this paper in his hand, but then she smiled and took it. 

"Thank you." 

She quickly put it back in her book. 

Curiosity seized the knight, but he knew it was none of his business. 

But... what was she hiding? 

"Jorah?" 

He looked up, shocked.

“Mh?” 

Dany looked back questioningly. 

"What do you think of that?" 

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Of... of what?" 

"Rakharo says if we ride far enough south, we should reach Qarth. Do you know Qarth?" 

He tried to gather himself and said, "Knowing is a strong word... I only know that the Dothraki call the city's people milkmen. And I've heard of the garden of bones, of course. Every time someone comes to the gates of Qarth and asks to enter and the Qartheen decide to deny them, the garden grows. It would be risky, but to be honest, I don’t think the Dothraki you have left, Khaleesi, would stay with you if you told them you wanted to settle here. They're bored. We've had our rest. Longer than we needed." 

Daenerys nodded slowly, realizing that he was right. 

"Very well, we'll leave tomorrow at dawn. Let's hope the Garden of Bones doesn't grow thanks to us." 

She turned to the Dothraki who were in the tent and told them the plan. Now that Jorah saw her like that, he suddenly realized how much he missed her. 

He was so close to her every day and yet so far away. Sometimes he would just have to stick his head out a little so their lips would meet... but he knew that would be foolish. 

He was her knight and she was his Khaleesi. 

His desire was pointless. Hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I have to say that the whole peach stone thing is... not that well-considered. Becaus I've tried to scratch something in one, just out of curiosity, and well, let's say I nearly killed myself xD Sooooo in our world it definitely doesn't work... but hey, maybe the peach stones in Essos are a little different lol  
> Oh an second, in this fic Lynesse was Jorah's first and only wife because he's too young to had two wives like in the books.


	11. Qarth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter names are getting better and better, I know xD Btw we're getting closer and closer to the good part lol

Gong. Gong. Gong. 

They arrived outside the walls of Qarth with that drum accompaniment. How that sound annoyed... The Khalasar gathered in a small crowd waiting for the gates to open... or at least something to happened. 

Jorah eyed the front wall. 

It was about thirty feet high, with two men standing per five feet. They were clearly slaves, as they had darker skin than the typical pale one the Qartheen had. All Dothraki stared at the gate, but when nothing happened after what felt like an eternity, Daenerys turned to her knight. 

"What’s the deal of this? Are they not even going to talk to us?" 

"I don't know, Khaleesi," he admitted, taking another look at the guards. 

Suddenly the gates opened with a loud squeak and more soldiers came out. In the middle of them thirteen men. You could literally see the cloud of perfume that misted around them. When they had lined up, nothing happened again. 

Eventually, Dany couldn't stand it any longer and took a step forward. 

"I'm Daenerys Stormborn of house-" 

"-of house Targaryen, the unburned, Khaleesi and mother of dragons," ended the fattest of the thirteen men. 

"You know me, Ser?" asked the Khaleesi surprised. 

"Well, you hear a bunch of things when you live in Qarth among all the witches and shadowbinders. And I'm no Ser, just a trader of spices. Some make a joke of it and call me the Spice King." 

"And what should I call you, … my friend?" 

The Spice King laughed. 

"My name is long, and you certainly couldn't pronounce it, let alone remember it. But back to your dragons. Where are they? May we see them?" 

Daenerys glanced briefly over her shoulder at the horse that carried the cages and the dragons. 

She swallowed. 

"We... Our journey was long and we’re all exhausted. I would be more than happy to show you my dragons during a meal in common and..." 

"Forgive me, Mother of Dragons, not that we, the Thirteen, aren’t believing you, it's just that we've never seen a real dragon before. What if this is all just a lie? We don't want liars in our city. Qarth didn’t become the greatest city there is and ever will be by letting savages enter.” 

Without saying another word, the Thirteen turned and the gates opened again. Jorah could tell by the attitude of his queen that she was about to run after them. 

"Khaleesi, please be careful," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear him. 

She paid no attention to him or his words. Of course, she didn't. 

Dany took a few steps towards the wall, but the guards were still standing there and merged into an attack position when she came too close to them. Jorah immediately stepped beside her to fend off any spears that might be trying to pierce his Khaleesi. 

"Thirteen!" Daenerys yelled as loud as she could with her craggy voice and full of rage. 

"When my dragons are grown, we will take back what was stolen from me and destroy those who wronged me! We will lay waste to armies and burn cities to the ground! Turn us away and we will burn you first!” 

The thirteen men had indeed stopped and listened to her words, some amused, some frightened. The spice merchant stepped forward again and said, "You are all your father's daughter. Another reason why we won't let you into our town." 

"But why? That’s a reason that speaks for itself!" another man interfered. He was tall, dark skinned and no older than Jorah. 

"Shut your mouth, Xaro Xhoan Daxos! The Thirteen have spoken!" 

"But I am one of the Thirteen and I am still speaking.” 

"And what do you suggest?" asked another man. 

"I can vouch for Daenerys Targaryen and her company. I summon Sumai," said Xaro coolly, drawing a dagger. 

Without batting an eyelid, he cut his palm and showed it to everyone. They nodded reluctantly, then turned to leave. The Spice King shot him a brief contemptuous look and followed the guards into the city. 

"Welcome to Qarth, Daenerys Targaryen", the tall man welcomed them, waving a hand to the city, and led them through the gate. 

The knight glanced at him and wasn’t very fond of him or the looks he gave Dany. He would certainly cause them trouble in some way. 

"And remember, we can't trust these people. I want at least five Dothraki near the Khaleesi at all times. Especially when she speaks to one of the Thirteen," Jorah instructed the Dothraki to accompany Daenerys to the welcome feast in the courtyard of Xaro's palace. 

They had been waiting half an hour now for Dany to finally get ready to leave. Servants of Xaro had come and gone with tonnes of clothes and the knight was getting increasingly restless. When the door opened for what felt like the three hundredth time, the Khaleesi walked out. The dress she had chosen was sky-blue and had silver curlicues that did hold the dress on the right place. Or didn’t they?

"You can't go to the feast like that," it burst out of him when he saw that the dress was a real Qartheen dress and therefore one breast wasn’t covered by the fabric. 

Dany gave him THAT look. 

"You are the one who always says you have to fit into society to be accepted." 

He was still struggling for a response, when Dany turned and he had to hurry so he wouldn't fall behind. 

"Yes, but I... You can't..." 

"Dress myself alone? I'm seventeen, I think I can." 

They were in the guest wing of the palace, so they had to cross the west wing and the stables to get to the courtyard. When they finally arrived, there were already some guests, who immediately surrounded the Mother of Dragons and chatted her up. 

“Typical Qartheen”, Jorah growled to himself, feeling jealousy rising. 

At the beginning it was a bit much for Daenerys, but she got used to it and Jorah decided that he could go and have some fun. He went to the other Dothraki who were standing in front of the wine barrels. 

"Why is there no mare's milk?" Rakharo complained and poured a whole cup of wine into his mouth. 

"This stuff is disgusting!" 

The knight smiled. 

"Not as disgusting as you or your fermented mare's milk!" 

"Pah! You know nothing about mare's milk, Andal," the Dothraki replied. 

"We could ask if there’s a small barrel… a very big small barrel..." the knight suggested chuckling and looked around for a maid. 

After an hour they all sat around the last barrel of mare's milk and Aggo slurred: "You know, I think I should tell Irri that I like her..." 

"Everyone likes her," Rakharo replied and poured another cup of milk into his mouth. 

"No... not like this." 

"I don’t understand..." 

Jorah rolled his eyes, "You really don't know anything at all, do you? He means like... like Daenerys liked Khal Drogo." 

It had taken him an infinite amount of effort not to say, how Daenerys had liked me. 

"Ahhh... you think she's hot, Aggo?" 

"You say that again and I'll cut your fucking tongue out of your mouth... Where is the Khaleesi, anyway?" 

Jorah chocked on his milk. 

Shite. 

He knew, he had forgot something! 

He tried to get up and nearly fell over again. They had clearly drunk too much milk. 

Supporting himself with one hand against a wall, he stumbled to find the Khaleesi. He had to blink again and again to see more clearly and suddenly that bloody wall ended. He lost his balance and fell on his knees. 

"Damn!" he cursed and suddenly had the urge to vomit. 

He did so... fortunately into a bush. 

Bloody mare's milk! 

The knight tried to pull himself together, when he heard someone say his name. 

"Jorah the Andal." 

It was a woman, wearing a red mask, who came closer and closer. 

"Former Lord of Bear Island and banished knight." 

"Do I know you?" he enquired and resisted the urge to vomit again. 

"I know you", she replied and pulled him back to his feet with an unexpected strength. 

She put one of his arms around her shoulders and led him back to the wall of the house. 

"You’re looking for the Mother of Dragons?" 

He just nodded and was happy to feel the cool wall under his fingers again. 

"Well, I'd keep a closer eye on her if I were you. You can't trust anyone in this city. You're surrounded by hypocrites and sycophants who may not seem dangerous at a first glance, but if you look behind their facade, you’ll see pure evil." 

With those words, she turned and walked away. Jorah gazed after her in bewilderment and slid to the floor with his back against the wall. He was as pale as a sheet and realized that it had been a mistake to come here. 

"Jorah! What have you done!", a voice tore him out of his clouded thoughts. 

He recognized Daenerys immediately and wanted to stand up again... but failed miserably. Worried, she laid a hand on his shoulder, saying: "I can take you back to my chambers. Jhiqui will take care of you." 

"No," he protested feebly. 

He couldn't leave her alone. 

Not here! 

What if something happened to her? 

"That wasn't a question," she replied coolly and put his arm around her shoulders, just like the other woman had done minutes before. With her help he managed to get up and slowly take a few steps. 

"How much mare's milk did you drink?" she asked and wrinkled her nose, as he apparently smelled of that shit. 

"I... don't know," he confessed embarrassed and would have preferred to continue sitting in that corner unnoticed by her. 

At some point, Daenerys pushed a door open and they entered her chamber. She guided him to her bed and called for Jhiqui. But he didn't hear that anymore since he had fallen asleep as soon as his face had touched the pillows. 

"Please! It was to our mutual advantage!" 

"I'll think it over.” 

"Think about it wisely. You won’t get every day an offer like this!" 

"Yes, I know. Good night." 

Daenerys slammed the door behind her and exhaled, shivering. 

Jorah had slept all afternoon and was startled to hear the discussion between the Khaleesi and Xaro. 

"And what was that about?" he asked, feeling as if his head was about to burst as he sat up at the bed acquaintance. 

His eyesight returned to normal and he was shocked at the sight of his queen. Her hair was all tousled and her gaze had something chased about it. 

"Xaro asked me to marry him," she said as if she could hardly believe it herself. 

The knight immediately jumped up at those words and slowly took a step towards her. 

"And... your answer?", he said with a thick voice, almost afraid to hear the response. 

"I need time to think about it." 

"But you don't really intend to marry him, do you?" 

"Well, he is the richest man in Qarth-" 

"That’s what he says." 

"And I would only gain by it." 

"Ha! That’s what he says." 

"Could you please stop saying that all the time? It's not helping." 

His eyes darkened. 

"Don't marry him. Please don't…” 

"And why not?" 

Because he loved her and didn't want to see her with that pompous bastard. 

"Because I guess… he didn’t tell you the whole truth. If you marry him like the milkmen do, you may wish for something from the groom at your wedding-" 

"I know." 

"-and he from you, too. I'm sure he'd choose one of the dragons." 

She obviously hadn't known that. 

"So how are we supposed to get to Westeros? We can't buy an army, let alone a fleet, without Xaro's gold. And now is the best time to attack. Robert Baratheon is dead. The Starks are fighting the Lannisters. The Baratheons are fighting each other." 

Jorah walked up to her and looked her in the widened eyes. 

"It might seem the only way. You might think this is your only chance in life to take the iron throne. But trust me, you'll have plenty of chances. We must not rush into this." 

She turned away from him. 

"And why not? I've waited all my life for this." 

"You can't conquer the Seven Kingdoms with a bought army. Your men are in Westeros.” 

"And why would they fight for me? They don't even know me.” 

"They will soon enough," he assured her. 

She was silent. 

"Don’t trust anyone here." 

Dany turned to him again at those words. 

"Don't treat me like a child, Ser." 

"I have-." 

"You've been telling me what to do ever since we met. I've always taken your advice to heart. But I can't always listen to you. You're not the only one who can think." 

"I didn't say that, Daenerys!" he growled angrily at her for being so infinitely stubborn. 

What had this town done to her? 

"Your Grace. I am your Queen. Speak to me like that," she coolly corrected him. 

That left him speechless for a moment. 

Was that...? Was she being serious? 

He looked as if he'd just been unexpectedly slapped right in the face. 

"Very well, Your Grace, if you can think so great and take care of yourself, you no longer need me." 

He tried to ignore the overwhelming headache. 

"No, I don't need you anymore." 

She had tears in her eyes, but he wasn't sorry at all. He nodded and measured the room with big steps. He teared open the door, but he stopped at Daenerys’ last words: 

"If I may give you advice too, Ser, it would be best if you gave up your one-sided love."


	12. "Never"

Had it been necessary? Had she had to say that? 

It was like Daenerys had ripped his heart out of his chest and watched him bleed to death. The fact that she didn't need him any more already hurt... but this... 

The knight listlessly bit into an apple and, while he was chewing, watched the crowds at the harbour. 

He didn't know what he wanted here anymore. Of course, he didn't really want to leave her, but Daenerys had made it patently clear that she didn't need him anymore. 

He didn't need her, either. 

He'd just sail off on a ship to some... place. 

What would it be like...? Alone... with no purpose in the world. He could join the Golden Company again… or any other sell sword army. He still had a few friends among the mercenaries... But what if someone bought the army and Jorah had to fight Daenerys? 

Well... SHE didn't need him anymore... 

He threw away the core and headed back to the palace. 

Tomorrow, the Fast Wave would set sail with the morning tide and sail for Astapor. 

What would it be like to be a sellsword again...? 

He was passing a brass stall when he heard the merchant whisper something in Bastard Valyrian to a customer. Jorah's Valyrian was not the best, but he understood two sentences: "The winged lizards have been stolen from their mother. They're being looked for all over the city." 

At first, he didn't understand what that meant, it was just weird Qartheen chatter and then it hit him. 

Dany's dragons had been stolen.

Shocked by this realization, he stopped. 

That was impossible! 

And without thinking about it any further, he sprinted off. It was still a long way to the palace, but he just kept running and after a few minutes, he arrived out of breath. Jorah hurried up the stairs with burning lungs and came into the small courtyard in front of Dany's chambers. 

On some of the stones he found traces of blood and he had to choke at the stench. In big steps he walked to the stairs and then took two or three of them at a time. 

As soon as he finally reached the top, bathed in sweat and gasping for air, the Khaleesi turned to him. Her eyes were wide open in fear, but her gaze softened when she recognised him. 

"You came back." 

How could he had left her alone? 

"Yes... I heard about it at the harbour." 

She just couldn't look at him any longer, not after their last conversation, so she turned back to the cages where the dragons once had been. 

"Irri is dead." 

He blinked. 

"I'm... I'm sorry, she was a... a very nice person." 

"She's dead! And I couldn't help her! She's dead because of me!" she sobbed, her tears turning her dress into a darker shade of blue. 

Now he turned away from her as well, otherwise he would have gone to her to comfort her... by hugging her... 

"I shouldn’t have left you alone", he reproached himself. 

The Khaleesi sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. 

"I sent you away. I said I wouldn’t need you. It's not your fault you weren’t here." 

Still... 

But had he not intended to leave her? Was that plan still on? 

"These people cannot be trusted. I even told you that, and then I ignored it myself! It was... wrong." 

"And who can I trust?" she asked desperately. 

"Me," he said with big eyes. 

Wasn't that obvious? 

She snorted. 

"I don’t need trust any longer. I don’t want it and I don’t have room for it." 

She crossed her arms and tried to turn away to go back to her bed. The knight automatically reached out his hand to stop her. 

"You're too young to-" 

When he touched her, she winced, shocked, and quickly pulled her arm away. 

"And you are too familiar!" 

An embarrassing moment of silence followed in which Jorah first looked at the Khaleesi in wonder and hurt, then at his feet. 

"Forgive me, Your Grace." 

He pressed his lips together and looked up again. 

"No one can survive in this world without help. No one. Let me help you, please. Just tell me how." 

She turned to meet his gaze. 

"Find my dragons."

Bitter sweet irony... 

It was simply bitter sweet irony. 

Every time he tried to turn away from Daenerys, he came back after a few hours and it became clearer and clearer that he just couldn't leave her. The more he tried to separate from Dany, the closer he got to her. 

It was like… like a curse! 

Jorah shook his head, wanting to focus again. 

Where was he supposed to look for the dragons? 

He wandered the streets of Qarth hoping to hear a conversation that might help him to find his queen's children. 

"You should try and visit Quaithe, Ser!" a person from one of the houses suddenly called out. 

At first Jorah wasn't sure if he had actually been addressed, but when the speaker came out of the shadows and stared at him with that strange look, he saw that he had been meant. 

"She will help you. Believe me." 

He spared himself the question how this man knew him and simply nodded to express his thanks, and then made his way to the temple of the shadowbinder. Everyone in Qarth knew where it stood. Right next to the high lighthouse at the harbour. 

As soon as he had arrived, he smelled the stench of burning grass. The fog that grew thicker and thicker with every step he took made him a little sleepy, but he pulled himself together and walked on. 

"Hello?", he shouted into the white emptiness in front of him and suddenly a head appeared, which was covered with a red mask. 

Quaithe. 

"I’m-" 

"You are here because of the dragons?" she interrupted him and disappeared back into the fog. 

He tried to follow her and replied, "You have them?" 

That was quicker than he had expected. 

He reached out for his sword. 

The shadowbinder turned to him and smiled. 

"You want to please the Mother of Dragons, don’t you?" 

Jorah looked back in surprise and simply repeated his question, "Do you have the dragons?" 

"You love her," his counterpart said, ignoring his question. 

"I...", the knight started, not really knowing what to say. 

"And yet you betrayed her," Quaithe muttered just loud enough for him to hear. 

He was speechless. 

How did she know that? 

He tried to swallow, but his mouth had become pretty dry. 

"When will you betray Daenerys Targaryen again?" 

She came a step closer. 

He couldn't say anything back - the answer was obvious, but- 

"When will you betray her again?" she interrupted his thoughts and stared into his eyes to see if he was lying. 

He would not betray her again. 

He would not abandon her again. 

"Never." 

His voice sounded more like the growl of a bear than that of a human and maybe that was the reason why the shadowbinder took a step back again. Then she nodded approvingly and turned back to the smoke. 

Before she disappeared, she said, "The one you’re looking for is right by her side at this very moment." 

The fog had long covered Quaithe when the knight realized his Khaleesi was in danger. He reflexively put one hand on his sword hilt and looked around in confusion. 

How was he supposed to get out of here? 

He started walking and he actually found his way out. 

But where was Daenerys? 

Probably at Xaro's palace... with Xaro. 

Had he stolen the dragons and killed all the Dothraki? 

That bloody bastard! 

Jorah looked around frantically for he didn't know what to do. If he walked, he might be too late. 

At the sound of hoofbeats behind him, he turned around, startled. The same old man who had told him about Quaithe came, riding a horse and jumped off the animal just so he could put the reins in Jorah's hand. 

"Save the queen." 

The knight looked at the man, irritated. 

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" 

"It's not you I'm helping, it's the queen, and now go." 

Jorah was still confused and just nodded slightly. But when he jumped on the horse he said, "Thank you. I will remember this." 

Then he pushed his heels against the animal's flanks and galloped down to the harbour. 

He wouldn't fail Daenerys again. 

"Come on! Faster!" he spurred on the black stallion and realized he couldn't hold the reins steady because his hands were shaking. 

Because of fear. The fear of losing the person he loved.

Was he late? He couldn't be late. 

He stormed into the courtyard of the palace and turned around some times. 

It was terribly quiet. 

Suddenly he heard steel clanging and several feet dressed in sandals stomped across the floor. 

Soldiers. 

"Search everywhere. The horse people are hiding in the most unlikely places! They must be removed before we take on the Khaleesi!" 

Jorah managed to disappear into an abandoned dark hallway just in time. When he peered out from behind the wall, he recognized the soldiers. They all looked and sounded alike. 

They were all Pyat Pree! The warlock of Qarth! 

He was so shocked and horrified that he forgot that they could see him as well. 

"There's another one!" 

Before he knew what was going on, a spear flew close to his face and pierced a tapestry behind him. He quickly scurried back behind the wall and began to run. 

What the warlock had said must mean that Dany was still here… somewhere. 

Unsuspecting. 

Alone. 

When the corridor split, he hurried further to the left... outside. He could find his way everywhere better than in this palace. 

The bright sunlight almost frightened him. 

He started sliding along the wall of the house to stay hidden in the shadow, looking for another entrance so he could enter the palace unseen. 

After a while, the footsteps behind him fell silent. His pursuers had given up the chase. 

Breathing heavily, he stopped. With a tortured expression on his face he continued to press himself against the wall. 

What should he do now? 

Daenerys could be anywhere. 

When he looked a little further along the wall, he spotted a large window through which he could climb in. He did so after he had looked around once more. 

The moment he set foot on the windowsill, he heard the footsteps. They came from a corridor leading into this room. But Jorah realized that they weren’t coming from soldiers, so he slowly crept out of the room and looked up and down. Then he recognized Dany's silver hair at the other end of the corridor. 

The knight was so relieved that he almost didn't notice Pyat Pree stepping out of the room in front of him and walking towards the queen with a dangerous smile. Her eyes widened in horror and then Rakharo suddenly came out of the hallway they had wanted to run into and stood in front of her. 

"They are coming from behind, too," Dany whimpered. 

Apparently, she hadn’t seen Jorah yet. 

Without hesitation he pulled out his dagger and threw it at the warlock. He stopped abruptly when the blade pierced his spine, and raised his head one last time, saying, "Come and visit us in the House of the undying. Your children are waiting." 

Then he collapsed and somehow disappeared in a split of seconds. Only his clothes disclosed his former presence. 

The Khaleesi and their blood rider looked up, horrified. But when they recognized him, the horror gave way to relief. 

"We have to get out of here!" he said, not daring to shout, and offered Dany a hand. 

She seemed to want to take it for a moment, but then just shook her head slightly and hurried past him into the room. Rakharo at least gave him a grateful look. 

It confused him. 

Had he done something wrong? 

The rumbling steps of the soldiers brought him back to reality. Quickly, he jumped into the room and slammed the door. The Blood Rider locked it so their lead wouldn’t shrink. The knight hurried to the window and climbed back outside. The Khaleesi followed and then came Rakharo.

"Are you all right?" Jorah asked anxiously. 

They both nodded. 

"Where shall we go now?" the queen replied, seeming more desperate than ever. 

He thought for a moment and an idea came to him. 

Quaithe wouldn't give them away, would she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming closer to the good part... okay, let's say _my favorite part_


	13. Tension

"What were you thinking?" Daenerys snapped at him. 

"I-." 

"You're always saying we can't trust anyone here! Then why can we trust her all of a sudden?" 

"She would never-." 

"The last time we spoke you swore to me that you would never leave my side and never go against your own principles again! You have kept neither of these promises. Your word doesn't seem worth anything.” 

Jorah swallowed hard. 

"Stop it… Please! I'm sorry, but you wanted me to find your dragons and now you're safe. I was there for you. And Quaithe would never betray us. She's not like everyone else here.” 

"That's what I thought of Xaro.” 

"We can trust her... I’m sure of that", he promised and answered Dany's angry look with silent pleading eyes. 

"Please..." 

"Well, you don’t leave me a choice, do you?" she murmured and turned away from him, unnerved, to look around Quaithe's temple. 

Everywhere ivy had grown up the walls and on some shelves were a few small bottles standing. 

"Daenerys-." 

Jorah interrupted himself. 

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I found a ship, that sails to Astapor. She leaves tonight. We could leave tonight."

The Khaleesi turned to him again in disbelief. 

"And what about my children? What about the Dothraki who were captured?" 

"You’re worth more than all the Dothraki combined!" 

"No! I'm a human being just like them! Why should I be worth more?" 

Jorah just couldn’t believe how stubborn she was. 

"You know exactly why! Because you are the rightful heir to the throne," he replied almost as loud. 

"You are the last living heir of the dragon. You are the Unburned! The Mother of Dragons!" 

"And what kind of mother am I, if I abandon my children?" she returned low-voiced. 

The knight tried to not lose his temper. 

"They are not your children. They're still dragons, Dae- Your Grace." 

He shouldn't have said that. He realized it the moment Dany's palm slapped his cheek. 

Regretting his words, he dwelled in his position. His head tilted to one side by the hit’s force, lips pressed together and eyes closed. 

Dany was panting for breath. 

"They are my children!" 

A tear rolled down her reddened cheek. 

"I will not abandon them," she sniffed and tried to stop the tears with her hands, but they were already falling on the floor. 

Jorah just stood there, not knowing what to do. 

He wanted to soothe her... but he would only be rejected anyway. 

He didn't want to get hurt by her again, so he just sighed, "Alright … I will take you to the House of the Undying."

"This is the house of the undying. It is known," muttered Rakharo, when the three saw the tower of the warlocks. 

The steps that led them to it were made of the same light-coloured stone as the tower. The trees at the edge were tall so they formed wall but somehow didn't cast any shadows. The sun was already high in the sky, and by walking up the stairs and wearing the armour, Jorah started to sweat a lot. 

When they arrived at the small ring wall that surrounded the tower, they stopped for a moment. 

"There are no guards," the Ko remarked in surprise. 

"No guards... the warlocks use their magic for protection. They don’t need guards, since they kill with magic, not with steel," said the knight. 

Dany snorted: "I won’t kill them with steel or magic. I will kill them with fire." 

They went through the archway and the tower they found was even bigger and higher than thought. 

But there was no entrance. 

"Is this a riddle?" mumbled Dany and touched the tower wall with one hand. 

Slowly she began to walk around it. 

Jorah gave Rakharo sign to wait, then he followed the Khaleesi. She became faster and faster and because the tower was round, he lost sight of her for a brief moment. He tried to catch up again but she was no longer there. Eventually, he arrived back at the point he started and where Rakharo was still waiting. 

Daenerys had disappeared. 

Questioningly, the Dothraki looked at the knight, who looked back in disbelief and then let his gaze wander to the tower. 

She was gone... 

Jorah threw his head back to look up the tower. But that didn't help either. 

"Khaleesi!" he shouted, hoping she would hear him, and then a second time even louder: "KHALEESI!" 

She didn’t. At least he didn’t get an answer. 

Desperate because he didn't know what to do, Ser Jorah took a few steps back, hitting with his back the wall and sliding down to the ground. Staring at the tower, he waited for something to happen. 

"What shall we do now?", asked his friend, sitting down next to Jorah. 

"There is nothing we can do but wait," the knight murmured. 

Then he remained silent. The two did that for quite a while and Jorah sank into thought. 

He hadn’t been able to keep his promise again... 

He was not at Dany's side... 

He should just stop making promises, so he couldn’t disappoint anyone anymore. 

But he made one last promise to himself anyway. 

He would never leave Daenerys again. Ever. Not just because he loved her, but because she was his queen. He had realized that when she stepped out of the ashes of Drogo’s pyre and the dragons had started to sing. 

She was the person who could rule the kingdoms. She had the will and the right. No one could deny that. 

He promised himself to be loyal to her. Forever. 

He wouldn’t give her up and leave her like Lynesse. 

He frowned irritated. 

How had Lynesse made her way into these thoughts? 

If he was honest… he didn't even remember her that well. 

Yes, he could still hear her laughter and yes, when he closed his eyes, he could still see her nut-brown ones. But that was all that was left... He wasn't even sure if he was sad about it. 

After all, it was only by leaving her that he had met Daenerys. 

Speaking of her, what did she have to do in that tower? Fight against the masters? Solve a riddle? 

Well, he had no idea, he just hoped she would make it. She had to make it! 

"Andal, look!" Aggo interrupted the knight's thoughts, nudging him. 

Jorah looked up and saw a trail of smoke growing at the top of the tower. 

Apparently, Daenerys actually killed the masters with fire.

Quietly and very slowly Jorah and Rakharo crept up to the guards. There were only three, easy for the last two of the queen's guard. The knight drew a dagger and his sword, the Ko his arakh. Jorah nodded at him, then concentrated and threw the dagger at a guard. The tip of the steel drilled into his temple and the man toppled over immediately. 

Even before he touched the ground, Jorah and Rakharo had jumped out of their hiding place, shocking the other guards. The two were not good fighters, so it happened that Jorah only needed one strike to finish one, in Rakharo’s case it was the same. 

"Khaleesi?" the knight asked and Daenerys appeared with her dragons. 

Drogon had made himself comfortable on her shoulder and blew a small cloud of smoke from his nostrils once in a while. Viserion and Rhaegal were sitting on their mother's forearms and sometimes squealed a bit. 

"Well done," she said when she saw the guards. 

"Did anyone hear you?" 

"I don’t think so, Khaleesi," Rakharo replied. 

Dany nodded. 

When Ser Jorah opened the door and the three of them entered the room, they finally saw all the other Dothraki who had simply disappeared two days before. 

Yesterday, after Daenerys had come out of the crumbling tower of the warlocks with her dragons, they went back to Quaithe’s temple and decided to search for the other Dothraki the next day and, if they found them, to seek out Xaro. 

Relieved cheering broke out and Daenerys smiled: "Are you ready to fight and punish those who have wronged you?” 

The cheering grew louder and they made their way to the wing of Xaro Xhoan Daxos where he slept. Some of the servants had already noticed Daenerys’ coming, along with their dragons and the angry Dothraki, and had fled. Perhaps they would have stayed if it had only been the Dothraki, but with dragons their loyalty to Xaro ended. 

Aggo and Malakho, who were finally free again, opened the door, which one could almost describe as gate, and the Dothraki who had their weapons back, drew them. 

All this happened quietly though. 

Daenerys entered the chambers of the King of Qarth first, close behind her Ser Jorah. Then the rest of the Khalasar came. 

The Khaleesi looked around and spotted the bed. As everyone approached, still careful not to make a sound, they realized that Xaro didn’t sleep alone in his bed. 

Doreah was lying next to him. 

The face of the Khaleesi turned to stone. 

That came unexpected. 

Aggo carefully reached out for Xaro with his arakh and quickly tore off the chain from Xaro's neck where the key of his treasury hung. Frightened, he woke up. 

"What the...!" 

When he realized who stood before him, he fell silent again. Doreah was also waking up now, rubbing her sleepy eyes. 

"Khaleesi?," she asked, amazed and terrified at the same time. 

"I- he said you would never leave Qarth alive." 

Without listening to her words, Dany said coldly, "Come." 

And then she turned away again.

The door of the treasury squeaked terribly when Jhogo opened it with the help of Jorah. Daenerys walked in with a torch in her hand and looked around. 

"Nothing..." 

When she came out again, she continued, "Thank you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Thank you for teaching me this." 

Three Dothraki stepped forward and pushed Xaro and Doreah towards the vault. 

"I am the King of Qarth. I can help you now, really help-" 

"Khaleesi, I beg you. Please don't!" 

But neither Xaro's bad offerings nor Doreah's whining changed Daenerys' mind. 

As soon as the Valyrian steel door was shut and locked, everything fell silent again. 

Jorah gave his queen the key, which she accepted with a light smile, and the rest of the Dothraki began to cheer again and ran upstairs to plunder the palace that was empty now. 

Jorah wanted to say something but the Khaleesi just turned away. The good mood that had suffused everyone suddenly disappeared. 

Why didn't she talk to him? 

She had her dragons back. 

Xaro was defeated. 

Qarth was literally lying at their feet! 

And yet she wasn’t happy. 

Well, if she didn't want him near her at the moment, he could go back to Quaithe. The shadowbinder had helped him to understand things. To deal with his feelings and to accept them. 

He looked over his shoulder one last time and then hit the road. 

Today was not as hot as all the others before and it was actually quite pleasant to ride through the alleys and streets like that. He saw three new ships anchoring at the harbour, when he trotted into the forecourt of the temple. 

He jumped off his horse and let it graze a little. Only now he noticed how beautiful it was here. 

"Ser Jorah Mormont." 

He winced. 

The Shadowbinder had a nasty habit of coming up behind one in the strangest and most inappropriate situations. 

"What are you doing here, Ser? Again...", she asked, with one of her hands mucking around a flower from a bush that grew along the way. 

"I- to be honest, I don't know. I kind of wanted to say thank you for everything and-" 

"Oh, we both know that's not the reason." 

The knight blinked surprised. 

"Yea... maybe you're right." 

"Is it that thing in your pouch that's bothering you?" 

Now he was really confused. 

What thing? 

"What... what do you mean? There is nothing but a few coins in my pouch." 

"I don't think so. Take a look inside." 

He rolled his eyes and then did as she commanded. And… indeed. His hand embraced something that was definitely not a coin. He pulled it out and looked at the object. 

It was a peach stone. THE peach stone. 

He had totally forgot about it. And one could literally see that. It was starting to decompose a little. 

"Why do you carry this with you?" asked the shadowbinder, reaching out her hand. 

Jorah gave her the stone and shrugged his shoulders. 

"I don't know... I somehow couldn't part with it. I want to know what's written on it." 

The woman's eyes widened in amusement as she looked at the writing. 

"Seems like you have a devotee. Where did you get this from?" 

“What do you mean, I have a devotee? What does it say?" 

"Answer my question, Ser," Quaithe countered and gave him back the peach pit. 

"I... found it under a tree." 

"And you picked it up just like that, unsuspecting, and then you noticed there was something scrapped in it you couldn't read?" 

Jorah scratched his neck guiltily. 

"Well... Yes, that's it... sort of." 

He smiled weirdly. 

Couldn't she just tell him what it said? 

"Do you at least know what language it is?" 

"I suspected High Valyrian." 

She smiled. 

"You're right. It is High Valyrian and there are only a handful of people who speak it." 

"And you are one of those people?" 

"Fortunately for you, yes." 

"And what does it say?" 

Jorah, already somewhat annoyed, leaned bored against one of the trees and watched a butterfly fly by. 

"I love you..." 

He nearly fell over. 

When he looked back at Quaithe in shock, she added, "That's what it says." 

"Oh! Oh, I see..." he laughed, sighing relieved but fell silent again when he realised that Daenerys had written this. 

"Oh..." 

Was that true? 

Had this message been addressed to him? Or to someone else? 

Jealousy made his heart ache. 

"Thank you, Quaithe. Thank you for everything. I should go." 

He hurried to his horse, looking over his shoulder. Quaithe was still standing there, watching him. 

"Thanks again,” he mumbled and picked himself up, turned the animal around and galloped away. 

She didn't stop him, didn't answer him, but just watched him with that mysterious look that was still burning on his back as he rode into the palace stables. 

If this message was addressed to him... 

But why should she still love him? 

Everything she had said to him in the last few days spoke against it. She had said that she didn't need him anymore, she had said that he would not keep his promises... and she had said that he should … give up his love. 

Why would she say that if she still had feelings for him? 

Probably she just had been bored when he told her about Lynesse. She probably didn't want to seem rude and tell him that, which is why she had been quietly preoccupied with other things, and he couldn't blame her for that. 

Thinking about it now, it really had been boring. 

But why those words of all things? 

She could have taken anything. 

Why had she chosen I love you? 

As soon as he opened the door of his room, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

"Is there a problem, Khaleesi?" 

She turned to him and asked, "And where have you been? I've been waiting for you for quite some time." 

He could hear the anger in her voice and tried to handle the situation as formal as he could. He put his feet together and looked humbly down at the ground. 

"I visited the shadowbinder, Your Grace." 

"Why?" she replied, her voice as cold as ice. 

"I wanted to thank her for everything.” 

"And why didn't you tell me this before? I would have come with you." 

He continued to look on the ground.

"Forgive me. I didn’t know that. I thought... I thought you'd rather spend time with your... children." 

She sighed and turned away from him again. 

"I want you to meet me at the stables in ten minutes. We're going to the harbour." 

With these words, she rushed out of the room past him.

Jorah looked up again. 

She was undoubtedly no longer in love with him. That was certain.


	14. I've missed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I don't own any of the English book versions of Asoiaf which means I had to translate some of the scenes I "copied" (not literally... more... the content of those scenes) from German into English... So chances are that some sentences may seem familar but also kinda wrong lol hope you can forgive me that xD

„I don’t think, we will find a captain who’s willing to take us… not today… not anymore. The last one didn’t want your dragons on his ship, the one before him was disgusted by the Dothraki and the one before that one wanted neither of us. To be honest, I can’t blame them,” Jorah growled, glancing at his Khaleesi. 

She was wearing her usual Dothraki clothes again and clearly wasn’t pleased by his words. 

“Oh, thank you, I really wasn’t aware of this at all.” 

When she saw his face, she sighed. 

“I mean… there just has to be someone who will accept us. I can’t spend the gold we have on ships.” 

That was true. 

Jorah noticed a merchant who seemed familiar to him. He had picked up by him that someone had stolen Dany’s dragons! 

He sauntered to the booth and eyed one of the plates. 

“What are you doing?” Dany asked surprised from the quay and stopped. 

“Look at this fabulous work, your Grace. Come and see for yourself!” 

Confused, she did as he had told her to. 

“I don’t know what’s so special about it…” 

The merchant’s eyes widened, when he noticed them, and scurried to them immediately. 

“This, Milady, is a special engraving!” 

Jorah looked excited at the man and then at his queen. 

“You see, it’s something special, your Grace! Look how it’s reflecting the sun!” 

He held it up in the air, showing her the reflection. But it wasn’t the sun the plate was reflecting. 

“Do you see the man over there? The one with the cane and the white beard,” he hissed and Daenerys started to look at the plate in detail. 

“Yes… what’s about him?” 

“I know him. He suggested to seek out Quaithe and he helped me to get back to the palace in time, before the warlocks could capture you. He’s following us now for quite a while.” 

Daenerys looked concerned. 

“And what are we supposed to do now?” 

“Keep eyes peeled and hope he’s not an enemy. I’ll do the same.” 

She nodded. 

“I think we should go back…“ 

He put the plate back and wanted to leave with her. 

“Hold on! Where are you going?“ 

The merchant asked indignantly and chase after them. 

“I-I got a gift for you, Daenerys Stormborn!“ 

Dany turned to him, starting to explain, “I don’t need-.” 

But the merchant pushed the casket into her hands anyway. 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” 

The man looked like he’d burst because of joy at any second. 

“Go on! Open it!” he smiled. 

Why was he so eager for Dany to open the box? 

Why was he willing to spend money for nothing? 

Could this be a-? 

Suddenly someone pushed Jorah out of the way and he hit the ground. The Khaleesi cried out in shock and got knocked over as well. 

The casket opened and… a manticore came out. 

The knight jumped up and drew his sword to stab it, but someone held his coat and the man with the white beard pre-empt him. When Jorah turned, he saw that a fat eunuch stood behind him, holding his coat. 

Angrily he tore loose from his grip and hurried to Dany. Although the old man was helping her up again and talked insistently to her, Jorah pushed him away, inflamed with rage. 

“Don’t you dare touching her!”, he spit, pointing his sword at him. 

Daenerys stood behind him, not able to move. He shot a look at the two attackers, then he turned to his queen and gently caught hold of her hands. 

“Did the manticore sting you?” 

She shook her head. 

“But I can’t… I can’t feel my fingers anymore.” 

Worried, he turned her hands a little in his and said, "They aren’t broken. You're going to be just fine." 

She nodded and met the old man’s gaze. 

“You saved my life, Ser. Thank you very much indeed.” 

„He nearly broke your hands!“ Jorah squawked. 

“But the manticore would have stung me if it wasn’t for that man,” Daenerys defended the man and turned back to him. 

“Who are you two?” 

The white bearded knelt before her and introduced them. 

“My companion is Strong Belwas. He’s been a slave of the fighting pits until Illyrio ransomed him.” 

“Illyrio? The magister sent you?” asked Dany happily. 

The knight wasn’t that happy though. He had recognized the old man. 

„The last time I saw you, Ser Barristan, was when you got drunk together with the usurper. What’s bringing you to our queen?” 

Ser Barristan didn’t look back angry or aggressive. But Jorah suddenly realized that the other knight knew of his betrayal. 

If he told Daenerys... 

He had stopped! He had stopped spying on her! 

"I realized that my loyalty has always been with the Targaryens, Lord Mormont..." 

"You know as well as I do that, I am no longer a lord. Bear Island has been taken from me," he growled and wanted to reach for his dagger reflexively, but Daenerys put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Perhaps Ser Barristan truly wants to serve me. You served the usurper for a time and now you're commander of my queens guard." 

Those words were meant to sound nice, he knew that, but they hurt anyway. Without saying anything else, he took a step back and stared sadly into the distance. He listened to the conversation with only half an ear. 

"So Illyrio sent you both... why?" 

"He wants his little princess back. And her children. He thinks it's time to conquer the Seven Kingdoms," Belwas explained in the Common Tongue, which he didn't speak very well. 

Illyrio... that bastard must have realized that Daenerys was the better choice too. Now that Robert was dead. 

He felt the excitement of his Khaleesi and hoped it was justified. 

"He sent us to Qarth with three ships I think your Dothraki and dragons will all have room there," Barristan Selmy added. 

"When can we sail?" 

He pondered for a moment. 

"With the morning tide," he guessed and pointed to the three ships Jorah had seen moored today as he had ridden to Quaithe. 

"At the end of the quay is the cog Saduleon, and near it are the galleys Summer Sun and Joso's Prank," he said. 

"Good. I'll come tomorrow with my Khalasar, the dragons and horses." 

Selmy and Belwas nodded and wanted to leave again, but she added, "One more thing. I don’t want to sail under those names." 

"What names then, Your Grace?" 

Jorah was surprised too. 

"I want to sail under the names Vhagar, Meraxes and Balerion."

"Your Grace... you've been standing here since the morning," Ser Jorah said anxiously, stepping beside his queen on the railing of the Balerion. They had fallen into doldrums and had been making slow progress for several days. 

"Did Drogon fly off again? Is it that?" 

She smiled tormented at it. 

"He's just having a lot more fun than we are... and Rhaegal and Viserion followed him. But they'll be back soon. I feel it." 

"Then why are you sad?" he asked. 

"The warlocks... I... I know they were all liars, but there was a prophecy told to me in the House of the Undying. I will be betrayed three times. For blood. For gold. For love. I’ve already been betrayed because of blood. You remember the Maegi..." 

She sighed. 

"I can't get this prophecy out of my mind. I don’t want to be betrayed again. I don’t want to be disappointed by people I trusted ever again..." 

Ser Jorah's mouth had become dry... 

If only she knew. 

"Don't worry about it, Your Grace. Focus on the present and on the future. You can learn from the past, but you can also drown into its depths." 

She didn't reply, just stared at the water again. 

"Do you trust Ser Barristan?", Jorah asked, not quite incoherently. 

"He was sent by Illyrio. I trust Illyrio." 

"Although all he cares about is himself and supporting the most powerful king?” 

"That’s not true!" 

"Yes, it is, and you know it..." 

"Illyrio has always been a friend of House Targaryen. He took Viserys and me in-." 

"-and sold you to Khal Drogo because he had a great Khalasar," he finished her sentence. 

"Face it. You cannot trust the Magister." 

For a moment there was a silence which was then broken by Dany. 

"Then why were you with him the day we met? You said you worked for him. If he was so bad, why were you in his service?" 

Damn... 

He was still struggling for words that would include the truth but reveal nothing of his treason, when Ser Barristan came. 

"I've known Illyrio for a year now and I must say I see your point, Ser. You think the Magister would do nothing but look after his own well-being, regardless of the losses and costs. Perhaps that’s true, but don't we all live a little like that? Don't we all live so that we profit the most from our actions?" 

"Is there something specific on your mind, Ser Barristan?" Dany inquired somewhat suspiciously and turned away from Jorah who stared at the other knight in horror. 

If he would tell her now... 

The old man gave him only a fleeting glance and then replied, "Well, all your ancestors lived by this principle. At least most of the heirs to the throne. They married brother and sister to keep the bloodline as pure as possible and not to have to share their claim to the throne with other houses." 

He was right about that and Daenerys had to see it too. 

Suddenly, Drogon emerged from between the clouds and shrieked with delight when he saw her. 

"Do you know how big dragons grow?" Daenerys asked the old knight with a smile on her lips. 

Now the other two dragons also appeared and flew higher and higher, trying to outdo each other in height, and then plunged down into the deep. Just before they touched the water, they spread their wings again and caught themselves, so that they let the water splash on their tails. Then the whole thing started all over again. 

“Songs say that Balerion and his brothers and sisters could eat a whole ox with one bite," Jorah replied instead of the other man. 

"They never stop growing when they live in freedom, Your Grace," he said. 

"What do you mean by freedom, Ser?", Dany asked in surprise. 

"In King's Landing, your ancestors built a huge domed castle where they kept their dragons when they didn't need them. They still call this castle the Dragon Pit, though it's nothing more than a ruin now. But once the dragon pit was huge, it is said that thirty horses could stand side by side in the entrance. Despite the enormous size of the Pit, these dragons never grew as big as their mothers and fathers, and the dragons shrank from generation to generation," Selmy told her. 

"I doubt that," Jorah said coolly. 

"Then why do you think the dragons have become smaller and smaller?" replied the old knight. 

"I think they were killed before they could get any bigger. And the killing techniques simply improved from generation to generation. It takes time for a human to grow up, too. If you kill them before they grow up, they're usually smaller as well." 

"Humans are humans. Dragons are dragons," Barristan replied. 

Jorah snorted. 

"What a profound insight." 

Dany ignored her knight and asked sincerely, "And how do you know all this?" 

"I had the honour to serve your father, Your Grace. I often saw those dragon skulls in the throne room. They were arranged by age and they kept getting smaller. Rhaegar would tell me about them sometimes if he had time and I asked." 

"So you knew him? My brother told me much about him. He said Rhaegar was the greatest fighter in the world. Perhaps the only one as good as him was Arthur Dayne. Can you testify to that?” 

"It's not for me to form an opinion.” 

"What are you getting at? Speak plainly to me." 

"Well... Rhaegar knew how to wield his sword, surely. But he was never the best, in my opinion. In tournaments, there was always at least one who could match him in skill.” 

"Tournaments cannot be compared to actual fighting in wars. You should know that, Ser Barristan," Jorah interrupted him. 

"Of course. But he was trumped in war as well." 

"But my brother won a tournament once," Dany interjected. 

"Yes, he did. But only once. A man can win one tournament and lose the next one quickly. Whether it's because of a wet patch of grass you slip on or the food you ate before. Just as the turning of wind can bring the gift of victory." 

Selmy looked directly at the other knight. 

"Or a lady's favor a man has tied around his arm." 

Ser Jorah's face darkened. 

"Watch your tongue!" he growled. 

Before Barristan or Dany could say anything, Belwas came on deck and yelled, "Selmy! Strong Belwas is hungry! Get off your arse and bring Strong Belwas food!" 

Selmy bowed to the queen and hurried to the eunuch. And so the conversation was ended abruptly. 

"I don't trust them," Ser Jorah said sincerely, watching the old man as he descended the stairs to the lower deck. 

"If you can give me a good reason, let me know," she replied bored. 

"I'll think of some while we're stuck in this doldrums," he promised.

"Maybe that's about to change," smiled Dany as a mild breeze brushed through her hair and she looked up at the sails, which inflated for the first time in days. 

"Wind," he laughed in surprise. 

"Speaking of the dragon..." 

And now all over the cog and the two galleys, delighted shouts burst out. 

"Wind! Wind! The wind is back!"

Slowly he reached out for the door to knock. 

Should he really do this? 

Yes. Yes, he would regret it if he didn’t. 

He knocked. 

“Who is this?” 

Her voice… 

He swallowed. 

Lately her voice was always so curt, when she talked with him. And he really didn’t get the reason. That’s why he was here. 

“Ser Jorah,” he answered and noticed that his hands were shaking a little bit. 

He heard steps and a latch was moved. Then the steps drifted off again. 

“Come in.” 

He did as he was told and opened the door to her room. It was pretty hot in here… or was he just imagining this? 

The three dragons sat on a perch, looking expectantly at their mother, since she had been feeding them. 

“What is it?”, she asked and pulled her blanked a little tighter around her shoulders. Her silver hair was plaited into a simple braid and only a few single strands hanging down next to her face. 

Jorah brushed through his hair, embarrassed, when he realized how dishevelled it was. 

He had to clear his throat. 

“Why?” he finally said, nearly chocking on his own words. 

Daenerys met his gaze, clearly confused. 

„Um… what…? Could you be more specific?“ 

He smiled bitterly. 

“You… Since our arrival in Qarth you’re treating me… like I did something bad to you. Like… you were forced to talk to me.” 

He paused, his mouth still slightly opened, shaking his head, upset. 

He couldn’t bear looking at Dany now, didn’t want to look at her. His eyes studying the planks in front of her bed, he continued. 

“At first, I thought, it was all my fault. I thought that… that I did something wrong. But no matter what I did, nothing changed. Whether I saved your life or your dragons.” 

He snorted, amused by the sadness of his own words. 

“You didn’t thank me for anything of it, but just blamed me for… I’m sorry but for really stupid things. You’ve literally made a mess of me… You knew how your words would hit me.” 

Jorah looked up and took a step closer towards her. 

“So I’m asking again: Why?” 

She shirked from his look. 

But he had time… he would wait until she would meet his gaze or at least answer his question. 

Rhaegal became unsettled and rustled with his wings. Hours seemed to pass before she answered. 

“Because… I never stopped.” 

She observed his boots, trying to hide her tears which started rolling down her cheeks. 

Did she cry? Because of… him? 

“It’s just so crazy,” continued Dany, sniffing.   
“The harder I tried to have a normal friendship with you… forcing us into it… the more I realized that I could never just see you as a friend.” 

She wiped her tears away with a corner of her blanked, shakily laughing. 

“Forgive me…” 

Jorah couldn’t believe, what he had just heard. 

She… she still loved him! 

Slowly he went to her and sat down. 

That move had apparently broken some kind of invisible wall and they could finally look each other in the eyes again with an expression of trust, security and perhaps also with a tiny, little spark of lust. 

“You know, that I love you…” 

Without waiting for Dany’s answer the knight pulled her in for a kiss. He had longed for this since months… 

She was really hot... well, the mother of dragons... but her scent and breath had lemon in it, which was a pleasant contrast to the heat. She was literally born to be kissed. 

He let go of her after a few seconds, though, as he wasn't quite sure if she really wanted to. 

Daenerys snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes. Lovingly he stroked one of the strands behind her ear, which made her smile a little. 

“You know… you were never gone… but I’ve been missing you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this was the last chapter of part 2 xD The coming chapters will be... well, the most fluff-filled ones ^^  
> Btw I translated most of this chapter by my own - without translator or the help of anyone - aaaaand... I have the feeling there are some bad mistakes in it lol sorryyyy


	15. Astapor

"Captain, I want us to make halt in Astapor. I want to see the Unsullied." 

Jorah had done it. He had managed to convince Dany to take a closer look at the soldiers of Astapor. That's what he had been talking about for days. 

When they weren't kissing or... otherwise occupied... 

He felt like the happiest man in the world at her side. Finally, they were together again and now he could love her as he had always wanted to. They didn't have to hide anything from anyone. Daenerys no longer had a man who would kill him if he knew anything about their relationship. The behaviour of them was probably a bit surprising and strange, for all the other people involved, since they didn't know that a little something had already happened before, but the knight didn’t care about that. 

He leaned against the railing, staring at the water and was waiting for Daenerys to come back from her conversation with Groleo, the captain of this ship. Apparently, he just didn't understand why Daenerys was so desperate to go to Astapor. When she finally came back, she smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

"Seems he agreed," he murmured and put an arm around her shoulders. 

Together they watched the sunrise and he could not have imagined anything more beautiful at this very moment. The waves beating against the bow, the rushing that caused, the first light’s soft shine. 

His Khaleesi looked up to him. 

"This must be so strange to everybody else…" 

"What do you mean?" he replied, knowing exactly what she meant, but he wanted her to say it out loud. He wanted to hear it, coming from her lips. 

"Well, that we are… together now, so to speak. So abruptly, I mean." 

"Well, how else?" he smiled and bent down to kiss her. 

She was indeed short and the fact that she probably wouldn't grow anymore amused him. She, on the other hand, was rather disappointed, and when they had once talked about it, he had only meant that short queens were certainly just as frightening as tall ones. 

"What will we find in Astapor?" she asked and glanced at the clouds, wishing to spot Drogon. 

"Well, I hope an army," he responded and sat down on the railing. 

"The Unsullied may not be men, but they fight better than most. They're loyal and obey only the commands of their masters. If need be, they will fight to the death for him… or her. Normal sellswords would just run away." 

"You speak from experience?" 

"As you know, I was in the Golden Company, so yes. Although we weren’t the ones running, if you get what I mean.” 

She nodded and smiled, "I would love to see you back then..." 

"Why? That was pretty embarrassing, believe me..." 

"That’s why." 

He chuckled and couldn't remember how he had lived without talking so carefreely to her. Daenerys was perfect to him. He was glad to have her to himself at last. Perhaps they would even marry someday! 

"When do you think we'll get to Astapor? I really can't wait!" 

"Be patient, Khaleesi. We'll be docking by dusk at the latest." 

And he was right. The sun was just disappearing on the horizon when the plank hit the quay and the first sailors jumped from the ship to anchor it and tie up the ropes. Daenerys followed them up the gangplank and looked around. 

"Well, I suppose we'll have to put the survey off till tomorrow..." 

The knight stepped beside her and smoothed back his hair with one hand. He had cut it so he could wear it open without any strands hanging in his face. It was a strange feeling to ran through it with the fingers, but also pleasant in this heat. 

"You might be right," he rumbled and went back to the ship so he wouldn't miss dinner below deck. 

Dany followed him. 

"I promise you, tomorrow we’ll be able to see the Unsullied." 

His promise seemed to cheer her up a bit and she hooked her arm through his. He smiled and together they went down the stairs. 

But subconsciously, he knew all along that this happiness would not last. At the latest when Dany found out about his betrayal, all this would fall apart. But this day had not come yet and hopefully some years would pass until it did. 

"Ask the noble Kraznys mo Nakloz about her education, Missandei," Daenerys told the slave girl that served as a translator for the slave trader who showed them around. 

Jorah didn’t understand why his queen insisted on this translator when she herself spoke Valyrian fluently. But she certainly had her reasons, so he kept his mouth shut. 

Kraznys grinned and explained with a dangerous smile how they chose the boys, circumcised them, trained them and how many died in that process, so only the best survived. Missandei tried to translate all this as correctly as possible and without making a face, but failed several times in the latter. 

Dany nodded slowly with a petrified expression. 

"You order the recruits to go to the harbour market, purloin a baby from a mother, kill it and then give her money for it?” 

Jorah was afraid she was pushing Kraznys too hard. But he just laughed and explained that they would never pay the child's mother. They were paying its owner. 

Daenerys swallowed hard. 

"That’s no longer human," she whispered more to herself than to anyone in particular. 

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you," he murmured apologetically. 

She shook her head and turned to Missandei again. 

"Ask your master how many he has to sell." 

She stopped and eyed the Unsullied who had been set before them. 

They all had different colours of skin and eyes, but their clothes were all the same. They seemed to sweat terribly under the heat of sun, but no one gave any sign that it was too hot for them here. 

"There are eight thousand Unsullied for sale," Missandei replied. 

"Eight thousand dead babies...", Daenerys murmured and turned back to the master. 

"Let me think it over until tomorrow, I will give you my answer then and at noon I will pick up the Unsullied I have chosen. Does that sound like a good deal to you?" 

Kraznys listened to Missandei's words and took Dany's outstretched hand, grinning. 

"It would be my pleasure," he grinned in the Common Tongue and turned away. Missandei ran after him like a dog and Daenerys turned to her knight. 

"That was horrible! Those men killed thousands of little children! Not to mention their own dogs!" 

"I should have warned you, I'm sorry, Khaleesi, I truly am. But thanks to this training, they're unbeatable at what they do." 

Dany sighed and began to walk back to the port, but Jorah grabbed her arm. 

"Wait! We still have some time. We don't have to go back to the ship, we could go and see the city instead." 

She seemed to think for a moment whether she wanted to see the city at all. Then she agreed. 

"Alright..." 

He smiled and intertwined his fingers with hers. 

"Let's go see a fortune teller!" 

She laughed. 

"Why?" 

"Why not?" he answered and lead her to one of the taverns. 

"I don't know if we are welcome here, Jorah..." 

"Oh, we have gold, that's enough." 

She rolled her eyes, then wormed her way through the tables with him. 

"I've heard that the fortune tellers here are amazingly good." 

"Sounds promising." 

"Even better than those of Volantis or Braavos." 

"I doubt that," Dany claimed, but fell silent when they came to the table of an old woman. 

"We would like to know our future," Jorah explained politely, and reached for a chair from the next table, which he pulled towards him and sat on. Dany sat down on the one that was already there. The woman didn’t return his smile, but only asked in a croaky voice, "What exactly do you two want to know?” 

Dany met his gaze, saying, "Will we be together for a long time?" 

The woman took a deck of cards in her hands and spread a few on her table. 

"I can't tell," she grunted. 

Jorah blinked. 

Honestly, this woman was so helpful and good at her job. Mind blowing… 

"Your future hasn't been written yet. One sentence could change everything." 

Daenerys looked at the woman confused, but Jorah knew immediately what was meant. He was glad it was so dark in here and Dany didn't see how pale he'd grown. 

"I advise you both to keep no secrets from each other. It could destroy everything." 

She gave the knight an inscrutable look. Now Dany also looked at him but questioningly and said, "I don't think we’re keeping secrets from one another..." 

"I... no. Of course not." 

He chuckled nervously. 

"I think we'd better be going..." 

Daenerys agreed, murmuring something, and stood up. Jorah put a silver coin at the old woman’s table and looked around for his queen. She had almost reached the exit and was now waiting for him. 

"Answer me one more question. When…? When will she find out?" 

"That depends on you... it depends on whether you tell her or she finds out differently." 

"But she will find out some day?" 

"Yes, she will... In a year at the latest you'll wish you had told her yourself." 

He lowered his head and turned away without saying another word. 

"Well, that was... enlightening," Jorah said, as soon as he got to Dany. 

She clearly was confused. 

"What secrets do you keep from me?" 

"I-I don't!" 

"You are a terrible liar, Jorah Mormont. You know that?" 

He sighed and said, "Listen, I... I can't-" 

"I don't even want you to tell me about it now. Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll tell me when the time comes," she interrupted him and pushed the door open. 

They noticed with surprise that it had already become dark and most of the people had holed themselves up in their houses. 

"I will," he promised and took the cloak off his shoulders to put it around Daenerys’. 

"We should go back to the ship now." 

She nodded and the two of them set off for the harbour. 

Jorah didn’t actually intend to tell her one day. She would hear it from someone else. He didn't have the heart to tell her... But maybe he could tell her this at some point.

"All?" repeated Missandei in disbelief and with huge eyes. 

"Have I not made myself clear?" replied the Khaleesi, looking around bored. 

"No, Your Grace... This one just wonders how you will buy 8,000 Unsullied." 

"Let myself worry about that." 

Missandei nodded and turned to her master... who opened his eyes in surprise and asked a question. Jorah understood, of course, and he was sure Daenerys did too. 

"How will that bitch buy eight thousand Unsullied? She has no gold." 

Neither of the Astapori could see they understood every word this man said. Missandei tried to explain it to him, but he just said he needed assurance. The girl nodded and turned back to Daenerys. 

"I’m afraid the honoured Kraznys mo Nakloz needs reassurance..." 

"Very well, ask your master if one dragon is enough to buy all the Unsullied." 

The knight looked at her with a startled look. 

She couldn't be serious! 

After all they had done for those beasts! 

For her children! 

What if the masters chose the green one? 

He didn't want them to have Rhaegal! 

He didn't want them to have any of the dragons! 

"Khaleesi, please -!" 

Her cold look silenced him. Embarrassed, he lowered his head and stared at the ground, but he didn’t apologize. 

Meanwhile, Good Master Kraznys had conferred with his friends. 

"Two and you can choose which ones," Missandei translated. 

"One." 

"Two," Kraznys said in the Common Tongue. 

"One," Dany repeated. 

Kraznys snorted angrily and consulted with his friends again. 

"The big one, we want the Black Dread." 

Daenerys agreed and walked out of the yard without saying another word. Jorah followed her, incredulous. 

"Are you serious? Drogon? He's your favourite." 

Enervated, she spun around to him. 

"I have no favourite! And you should never question me again in front of our enemies!" 

He was about to say something else, but she cut him off. 

"Besides, I'm not actually planning on giving my dragons to that... monster. As I said, let me worry about that." 

He clenched his teeth and followed her to the harbour. Now all they had to do was wait until noon.

"She must have gone mad," muttered Ser Barristan, who rode beside Ser Jorah, making sure that none of the Dothraki disappeared or much more, that nothing disappeared because of them. 

"Daenerys has a plan… But I don't know it," he added as the other knight began to ask what it was. 

"Let's hope it works out," he grumbled and slowed down a bit to be able to talk to Strong Belwas. 

Jorah turned back and watched his queen ride her new horse from Qarth to the Plaza of Pride. As they passed through the gates, they found all the Unsullied lined up. It was as if he was walking into a forest of people. They stood quite stiffly, waiting for their instructions, keeping silent and staring forward into the void. He didn’t know how long they had been standing there, but he was sure that no normal human being would have been able to stand it. 

"Where is the dragon?" he heard Kraznys’ question and automatically tensed his muscles a little more. 

Dany didn't answer, but just opened one of the cages and grabbed the chain. With a lot of effort, she made Drogon come out and now he flew, tied to the chain, above her head. The master wanted to grab it already, but the Khaleesi pulled it away. 

"I want a gift from you," she said, eyeing Missandei. 

“I want her.” 

The translator looked up in surprise. Then she explained to her owner what Dany had said. He just grunted, "You can have her. She means nothing to me." 

Missandei nodded devotedly and walked to Daenerys. The Khaleesi whispered something to her and the girl tapped down the steps to the knight and the servants. Some of the Dothraki came immediately and took care of her. Daenerys handed the chain to the man and he gave her the whip, he called the harpy's fingers. 

"Is the deal done now? Are the Unsullied mine?", she asked and waited somewhat tense for the answer. 

"Yes, the deal is closed," answered Kraznys, who apparently had some difficulty holding Drogon. 

"Stop it," hissed the master as the dragon began to pull on the chain. 

"Obey!" 

He reddened a little as it was so hard to hold him. 

"He doesn't obey!" 

Dany had turned away and smiled. 

"A dragon is not a slave." 

Kraznys looked at her with a startled look. 

"You speak Valyrian?” 

She looked back to him. 

"I am Daenerys Stormborn, first of her name, of the House Targaryen. Valyrian is my mother tongue." 

Jorah was stunned. 

He knew her plan would work now. 

Drogon had become even more agitated and began to scream for his mother, who seemingly wanted to leave him alone. But Daenerys didn't leave him, of course not, no, she looked at him with a dangerous smile and shouted, "Drogon! DRACARYS!" 

Within seconds, the whole platform on which all the masters and their friends and wives stood, was on fire. You could basically see Kraznys face melting under the flames. The queen turned away, unmoved, to her Unsullied. They hadn't moved an inch and were just staring at her. 

"UNSULLIED! YOU BELONG TO ME NOW! AND I COMMAND YOU TO KILL ALL THE MASTERS AT YOUR SIDE AND FREE THE SLAVES OF THE CITY! WE WILL MEET AT THE GATES OF ASTAPORE!" 

The Unsullied scattered without making a sound and set about carrying out their orders. 

Jorah just stood there and watched the battlefield. 

Dany's plan had indeed worked out...


	16. bad conscience

"All eight thousand Unsullied remained, with them three thousand freed slaves from Astapor ... we can't possibly sail to Pentos." 

Daenerys was right... they had grown to too many. 

"Can't we puzzle about that tomorrow?" he asked tiredly, and slumped down on her bed. 

"There's no pressure." 

He received a rebuking look from her, and he added, "Tomorrow we’ll be well rested. We might as well ask Selmy and Belwas for advice. There's only two of us now, and we're both tired." 

He reached out, stroking her arm and when she took his hand, he pulled her to him and reluctantly she gave in. Dany sat on Jorah's lap, cubing his cheek after she had smoothed his hair a little. 

"Well, much to my regret I must confess that you are very persuasive, Ser..." 

She covered his lips with hers and he wasn't tired anymore at all. The knight placed one hand on his queen's back and began to untie the knot that held her dress. 

"Do you know how much I love you?" 

"Certainly not more than I love you," Dany smirked and unhappily brushed with her fingers through his hair. 

"Did you have to cut it this short?" 

He rolled his eyes and stroke a silver strand behind her ear. 

"What would I do with hair that long? Were you going to braid it for me?” 

He smiled and kissed her again. 

“Besides, my hair will grow again." 

She growled disapprovingly. 

"You might as well have shaved... Your beard is scratchy." 

"Oh, pardon my queen," he chuckled. 

"I can shave now, if it pleases you!" 

Jorah set her down beside him and stood up. 

"No! I most certainly would not like that! Come back again!" 

"But you said my beard is bothering you. So, I will go and shave just to please my Khaleesi." 

"No! I command you to come back! Scratchy did nothing wrong! Leave him alone!" 

“Scratchy?”, he asked, not sure if he had understood her right. 

She nodded seriously. 

There was a moment of silence and they both just looked at each other sternly. Then Jorah couldn't resist it anymore and burst out into laughter. Daenerys joined in shortly afterwards. She let herself fall back into the pile of pillows behind her and could only stop when she covered her mouth with both her hands. With lips pressed together, she watched him as he took off his boots, blew out the candle and then sat down next to her again. 

"Would my Khaleesi like me to lie down beside her?" 

"Oh yes... she would," she said with a smile and set about taking off his shirt. Meanwhile he finished his work, finally untying the knot of her dress. Daenerys got rid of it and pulled the blanket over both of them. As usual, she laid her head on her knight’s arm that would probably go to sleep after an hour, and placed one hand on his chest. 

"Good night..." she murmured and closed her eyes. 

He had to smile a little. 

She could be so sweet... 

He listened to her breathing. Eventually it became regular and then, as expected, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and wrapped her legs around the lower part of it so that there was only a very small corner left on his feet. He sighed and closed his eyes as well. He would certainly not freeze to death here.

But he couldn't sleep... 

He felt Dany's warmth and noticed how his bad conscience caught up with him. At some point in the near future, all of this would be destroyed. She would hate him and maybe even kill him for his betrayal. He swallowed hard and looked back at Dany... 

There was a silver strand over her mouth that trembled a little every time she exhaled. Carefully, he raised his free hand and brushed the hairs away. As long as he had the honour to stay by her side, he would protect her. From everything and everyone. Even a tiny strand of hair that she could choke on.

"I would like to discuss my next actions with you. Missandei, you may go," said Daenerys and waved to Strong Belwas and Ser Barristan, whom Missandei had just taken. 

A map was unfurled on the table. 

"We are here." 

She pointed at a mark that had Astapor written on it. 

"Now what?" 

After a moment's thought, Jorah replied, "Each way is hard, it depends on what you want. Do you want to free more slaves or go to Magister Illyrio?" 

"I could free the slaves first and then go to Illyrio." 

"What slaves? All of them?" Belwas snorted amused. 

"Little queen, you have a good heart but you can't free all the slaves in Slaver’s Bay." 

"Why not?" She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. 

"If it works in Westeros without slaves, why not here? I've seen enough in Astapor to know that most slaves hate their lives. You've seen how some are treated. It's not fair." 

"Daenerys, life isn't fair, or else your brother Rhaegar would be sitting on the Iron Throne now, and many who died would still be alive," the younger knight said. 

"I know life is not fair, but what is the use of kings if not for justice and peace?" 

"You're right, of course, but there are no kings here. We're not in Westeros." 

"Then perhaps it's time for a king, or rather, a queen.” 

Silence. 

Jorah shook his head slightly and asked, "So Yunkai is our destination?" 

Daenerys nodded, but added, "Would you agree to that?" 

"Well, I would have gone to Pentos, but if I wanted to free slaves, I would go to Yunkai." 

"It's a long way and I don't think we have enough supplies; how do we solve that problem?" Daenerys inquired. 

"Well, you seem to have thought of something already, tell us what solution you have come to," Barristan asked her. 

"Getting the supplies won’t be the problem, I think. It’s going to be the transport. We don’t have enough horses. Well, we have the Dothraki, but their horses can't carry supplies for 11,000 men. So, we need carts that need to be dragged by someone, but by whom. Of course, I could leave it to the Unsullied, but they're not really cut out for it, neither are the freed slaves or the Dothraki. Who's left?" she explained. 

"You, Strong Belwas, Selmy, Missandei and I… no, wait a minute, Missandei is one of the freed slaves, isn't she?" Jorah joked, causing Dany to chuckle. 

Damn, he loved her laugh. 

Smiling, he continued, "You are right about the carts, but as you said yourself, there is no one who could drag all of them. So, I suggest, before we rack our brains, that we don't take carts, but ships. We'll walk ashore while the ships stay close to shore and dock every night to supply us with food. To make sure the ships don't sail away, I would put Unsullied on each ship, because they will obey you for sure." 

Everyone agreed, murmuring. 

"And do you really think the magister's three ships are enough?" Ser Barristan inquired. 

Jorah set about replying, but the old man continued, "We are over eleven thousand men... we need at least... three shiploads a day." 

No one could say anything back. He was right... But Jorah got an idea. 

"What if the Meraxes and Vhagar just keep coming back for supplies, in case we run out? In addition, we'll just have to form groups to take food." 

"Form groups? That would take far too long. I want to leave tomorrow!" 

"But there's no other way, Khaleesi...“ 

Daenerys looked at the map again and said, "Ten healthy adults in a group. They should split up themselves into shifts on their own and simply take turns. Sick people, children and pregnant women will have to stay in Astapor.” 

Barristan bowed his head and said, "I can deliver these orders to all concerned." 

Dany nodded and Selmy pulled Belwas out of the tent with him. Tiredly, she brushed with her fingers through her hair. 

"The solution is good after all," said Jorah and took a pear from the fruit bowl that one of the freed slaves had brought them. 

"Yes, but it was hard work to find it..." 

"Well, nobody said it was going to be easy..." 

"We made it... We’ve reached Yunkai," Dany said in relief as they stopped on one of the sand dunes and finally saw the yellow city. 

Jorah wiped some sweat off his forehead. 

"I still think we should move on..." 

The sand that the wind blew away burned unbearably in their eyes. 

"Are you afraid to fight bed slaves and sellswords, Ser?" Dany teased him and looked again at the walls of Yunkai, before which three armies had formed. On the right you could see the flag of the Storm Crows fluttering in the wind, on the left the tents were embroidered with the sign of the Second Sons and in the middle the Yunkai'i were stationed. But just because the Yunkish were known for their slaves of love, that didn't mean the city was easy to take. 

"I think our army of the Unsullied, the freedmen and the few Dothraki is strong enough to defeat them," claimed Ser Barristan, who stood behind them. 

"Of course, they are, but we'd still lose men. Unnecessary losses. What does it buy us to take this city? It doesn’t bring us any closer to Westeros. We have no reason to do this..." insisted the young knight. Dany looked at him with an inquiring look. 

"How many slaves are there in Yunkai?" 

"About two hundred thousand… maybe more.” 

"Then we have two hundred thousand reasons to rid this city of the Wise Men," she replied. 

“Alright then…” 

He bowed his head and left the dune to go to her tent. No, their tent. 

Dany had asked some of the freedmen not to pitch his tent and instead set up his belongings in hers. So, now her tent was his tent too. And he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

It wasn't the people who gave him confused looks when he entered the tent late in the evening, but simply the absurd fact that he was now with Daenerys. Something he hadn't even dared to dream about before, because it had seemed so unlikely to him. 

But what was far stranger were the conversations with his Dothraki friends. Probably they had known that he was in love with Daenerys but they never expected his love to be returned. So, they just avoided the subject. And that also meant that they didn't talk about Dany at all, which could lead to extremely unpleasant situations. Because what else could they talk about? Horses? 

Jorah shook his head, suddenly very tired and rubbed his eyes. Immediately some sand stick to his hands. He sighed, wiping it off on his tunic, and then walked on to his tent. No, their tent! 

As soon as he arrived, he let himself fall onto the bed and just tried to fall asleep. But after a few minutes he was startled again as Daenerys came into the tent. 

"I sent Belwas and Ser Barristan to convince the Stormcrow’s leaders to me- oh... were you asleep?” 

"What does it look like?" he growled into a pillow and sat up. 

Shocked, he realized that there was a third person standing in their tent. 

"May I introduce Mero the bastard of the Titan of Braavos ...", Dany smiled. 

"He is the leader of the Second Sons." 

Mero grinned. 

"I think your knight knows who I am." 

Surprised, the Khaleesi looked at the knight whose face had turned to stone. 

"Of course, I know you," he said coolly and stood up to go to Daenerys. 

"How do you two know each other?" she asked. 

"We were both in the Golden Company and had a few... hours of training together," explained the Titan's bastard. 

Jorah wanted to add something, but the other had already turned to the queen again. 

"So back to the reason I'm here, you want the Second Sons to defect to you?” 

Dany just nodded. 

"And what can you offer me in return?", Mero asked almost somewhat provocatively. 

"You’ll survive and won’t be defeated by a girl," Dany replied unimpressed causing Jorah to smile. 

You couldn't talk to Mero normally; she was all too well aware of that. 

"That seems to me a little... small of an offer. How about you listen to mine: I won't have you raped by my men if you give me a kiss now." 

Immediately the knight's hand was on his dagger handle, wanting to throw it at Mero, but Dany stood in his way and placed her hand on his arm. 

"I think we've discussed everything there is to discuss ..." she said, waiting for the bastard to leave. 

He ran his tongue over his lips and grinned again. 

"I would like another barrel of this wine. Its taste is fabulous ... and maybe I'll think it over." 

Daenerys returned his smile and shouted, "Grey Worm!" 

The Unsullied came straight into the tent, his spear aimed at Mero. 

"Please take our friend to the wine carts. Find some of the Unsullied to bring one to the Second Sons’ camp." 

The soldier nodded and went back outside. The Titan's bastard gave Dany another dirty look for which Jorah would have liked to stab him, and left the tent as well. 

"We will drink a toast to your wellbeing, Khaleesi," it came from outside and a tense silence fell. 

"Do you realize how much I hate him...!?", Jorah growled at once and wanted to chase after him and throw one of his knives at this bastard. 

Dany put her hand on his shoulder and smiled understandingly, "I hate him just as you do..." 

"No, you don’t.” 

The bitterness in his voice made her flinch. 

“You don't know him, Daenerys. He... he didn't kill your friend!" 

The look she gave him was a mix of sadness, anger and surprise. 

"I... I'm sorry." 

He just shook his head and took her in his arms. 

"You didn’t know… you couldn’t know," he murmured and buried his nose in her hair, feeling the urge to go on. 

"His name was Merrett, my only friend at that time. He borrowed money from Mero." 

He resisted to sniff, because he knew he would probably start sobbing if he did. 

"I... I couldn't give him money. I would have if I could, but Lynesse... I already told you about her… So, Merrett went to that bastard, although I warned him! I knew Mero would kill him if he didn't give him the money back in time, but he said it wouldn't come to that. Of course, it came to it... That idiot...” 

He looked down at Daenerys and she lifted her head from his chest so she could look into his eyes. 

"We were fighting at the Rhoyne... again... when Mero came and finished Merrett off. I couldn't help him because I was busy with one of the enemies. He was murdered for money from his own brother in arms. That’s the Mero I know... and I'm sure he hasn't changed!" 

She slowly raised her hand to wipe a tear from his face. He closed his eyes, trying to get his breath under control. 

"I hope he won’t defect to us," Dany said conspiratorially, making him smile sadly. 

"I hope we can feed him to my dragons after this night." 

"After this night?" he asked in surprise and met her gaze again. 

"Yes, I have just decided that one conversation is enough to decide whether to defect or not. We will attack the enemy’s army this night and take Yunkai. I suggest you inform Grey Worm and prepare for battle while I talk to the Stormcrow’s leaders and meet one of the Wise Masters."


	17. Yunkai

"Daario!" 

Jorah had just spoken to Grey Worm, the general of the Unsullied, when he saw the sellsword coming out of Dany's tent. Two other men in front of him. Was he...? 

The man met his gaze and his eyes widened in surprise; immediately he came up to him. 

"Jorah Mormont! I thought you'd sailed back to Westeros and been killed for your crimes!" 

"Glad to see you, too…," the knight replied dryly and took Daario's outstretched hand. 

"So, you're with the Stormcrows now?" 

"I'm even an officer," explained the sellsword, grinning typically with the gleam of his golden tooth. 

"And you're going to fight for Daenerys Stormborn or what? Didn't know you liked little girls." 

"She's not a little girl," he objected. 

"Not any more..." 

"So, you actually like her?" Daario asked, amused, and looked over his shoulder at Dany, who was just sauntering towards them. 

"Another one of your… friends?", she asked and returned Daario's look unmoved. 

"Yes... but this time it truly is a friend." 

Her gaze brightened a bit and she stood next to her knight. 

"Do you know about Mero?", he asked the Stormcrow, who nodded and gritted his teeth. 

"That scumbag is pissing me off since days. He says-." 

He interrupted himself when Jorah placed his arm around Daenerys’ shoulders and pressed a fleeting kiss on her forehead. The Stormcrow's look was worth a mint. 

"Oh...she likes you too..." he muttered which made Dany smile and Jorah roll his eyes, chuckling. 

Daario had always been like that… since the very first day they’d met. 

"I will never be able to convince the other two officers to defect. I'm sorry," he said more seriously again. 

"Can't you just join us alone? I don't want to fight you...", Jorah said sincerely. 

"And be considered a deserter? Maybe you wouldn't mind that, but I don't want to be remembered that way by other people." 

"Oh, you stuck-up idiot," the knight growled angrily. 

He would have liked best to tell him that the attack was planned for that night.

"Please... try to convince the other officers." 

Daario just looked at him and then turned away to leave. 

"See you, Andal, whether on the battlefield or in your tent, I don't know yet! Sleep well, Khaleesi..." 

He wanted to run after him, but Daenerys had her fingers intertwined with his and he didn’t want to let go of her. So, he just stayed. 

"Are all your friends like that?" she asked sceptically, as soon as Daario was out of sight. 

"No... he's special."

"I told you we'd meet again!" 

"But not like this!” 

It was late afternoon, the sun had just set and Jorah, Daenerys and Daario were standing in their tent. The Stormcrow had thrown a sack at the Khaleesi's feet. 

"I convinced the other two officers, that’s what you wanted me to do..." 

"But not... not by killing them!" 

Jorah stared at the sack in disgust. It was slightly open and he could barely make out the heads of the other two officers. Dany was busy trying to keep her dragons from jumping on those heads and eating them. 

"The Stormcrows will fight for you, Khaleesi," Daario explained and slowly went to Jorah to box him on the shoulder. 

"Now we don't have to fight each other! That’s what you wanted... The two were cunts anyway." 

The knight sighed. 

"Well, we can't undo it... let's make the best of it." 

"That's the idiot I know!" grinned Daario.

Jorah returned his grin with a small smile and walked to Dany. 

"We can trust him," he muttered, knowing from her look that she was sceptical.

"I don't know...", she replied just as quietly and gave the sellsword a quick glance. 

"Then I'll put it this way: We must trust him." 

She swallowed. 

"I don't want to be betrayed again... for gold, like the warlocks sa-." 

"No. Don't start all that again... please. We have to trust him, if we're going to cut our losses. Please, Daenerys. I know we can trust him. I know Daario." 

"You knew him, what if he's changed?" 

"I don't think he has..." 

"But you can't be sure?" 

"No... you never can." 

For a moment Dany looked at him almost suspiciously, but that was gone after a brief moment, making him wonder if he had imagined it. 

"All right... Because you trust him and we don't have time to argue about it any longer." 

"You won't regret it," he said, brushing a silver lock behind her ear. 

Then he looked back at his friend and asked, "Are the Stormcrows ready for a fight?" 

"Now?" 

"Tonight." 

Daario looked at him with big eyes. 

"Ha! I guess I got lucky when I killed those two... Yunkai will never repel this attack. It'll be more of a slaughter than a battle." 

"Just be ready," he said. 

"We're always ready," Daario claimed, making his golden tooth gleam. 

"Good. Ser Barristan, Belwas and Grey Worm will arrive at any minute to discuss the battle plan." 

"I await them eagerly," joked the sellsword and collapsed into a chair. 

Daenerys had been silent the whole time, feeding her dragons, but now she seemed to be on her limit. She rose and went to the table. 

"Are you sitting comfortably, Naharis?" 

"Can't complain, Targaryen.” 

Jorah closed his eyes unnerved. 

This was going to be so much fun…

Jorah stood next to Dany who bent over the table to look at a map of Yunkai. 

"We will leave the freedmen and the Dothraki here to defend the camp if necessary. The Unsullied will be divided into three parts. Part one is led by me, we attack the Yunkish from the front, part two, led by Grey Worm, takes over the right flank, meaning the Second Sons, the left flank, meaning also the Yunkish, is handled by the Stormcrows, part three of the Unsullied stays behind the battlefield on a slight elevation, it’s our reserve. If we lose, Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas must take the Khaleesi somewhere far away from here, I'll have three strong horses saddled and staked outside the tent, just in case... I'll also make sure there's enough water and food on the saddles for three days. Is everything settled?" 

The knight looked around. They had discussed everything for an hour now, so there was a unanimous nod. 

"Well... if we win, the slaves will probably join us and the city will fall." 

His gaze got stuck on the Khaleesi. She looked very tired but confident. It strengthened him a little. She smiled into the round. 

"Let us hope for a quick victory with few casualties. If you leave now, you shall return as victor. Valar morghulis." 

Ser Jorah wasn't used to that sort of talk from his little queen and wondered where she got it from. 

"Valar dohaeris," they answered in chorus. 

Daario, Grey Worm and Jorah left the tent. It was cooler outside than usual. That was good. Otherwise they would probably have drowned in their own sweat. 

The Stormcrow went back to the other sellswords to explain everything to them, the other two made their way to the Unsullied’s camp where everyone was already preparing for battle. There were so many fires that one had the feeling it was daytime. Fortunately, the camp was located behind a small hill, so they were completely hidden from the Yunkai'i. 

When Jorah looked up at the sky, where the moon and the stars were shining. He was about to avert his gaze again when a red shooting star flitted across the sky and suddenly the knight was sure: They would win this battle.

Come on! Faster! Faster! 

Ser Jorah rode his horse right into the heart of the Yunkish camp, the Unsullied right behind him. The Stormcrows just attacked from the left flank as planned and slowly mingled with the Unsullied. Some on horseback, some on foot. 

Jorah only heard shouting around him. 

It was more of a slaughter than a battle, as Daario had said. 

Most of the noise was coming from the right flank where the drunken second Sons were desperately trying to escape but lost their heads in the process. It was almost too easy. He rode on effortlessly, sometimes striking here and there with his sword at an attacker. 

In the middle of the camp he stopped and turned his horse to get an approximate assessment of the situation. A few tents had caught fire and there were dead bodies everywhere. The Unsullied were already rounding up some slaves and freedmen who had surrendered, and he spotted Grey Worm. 

Suddenly he was torn off his horse. Someone had grabbed his foot and actually pulled him down when he was briefly inattentive, because he had been searching for Daario. 

To his own surprise, he saw an Unsullied. 

Steel flashed. A sword! 

It couldn't be a true Unsullied, they only fought with spears, mostly at least, but never with swords. 

He rolled to the side just in time before the steel could hit him. Jorah pulled himself up and had to dodge another blow. 

"Who the hell are you?" he shouted at his counterpart in Valyrian. 

The man didn't answer but drew his sword again. He was very clumsy, so it was easy for Jorah to parry the attack, pulling the helmet off the stranger’s head, but he didn’t recognize him. The knight pulled his dagger, slipped cleverly behind the man and held the steel to his throat. 

It happened so quickly that the stranger couldn’t do anything at all. 

"Who are you?" he tried again, this time in the common tongue. 

His opponent writhed beneath him, but Jorah wouldn’t let go of him. 

"The queen sends me," the panted answer finally came. 

The queen? Did he mean Daenerys? 

"Why would she do that?" Jorah asked. 

It was a bad time for questioning, but he just needed answers. 

"She says you’re a traitor and must be punished!" 

She knew? 

Shocked as the knight was, he couldn’t ask any further, but the stranger continued. 

"She said it was a disgrace to choose against his homeland and serve a would-be queen in return." 

He was talking about Cersei! But she was not queen, and even if she was, how had she found out about him? Did Varys run through King's Landing, shouting that he had been a spy once? It was absurd, the man had to be hiding something. 

"This is ridiculous, why would Cersei want my death more than Daenerys'?" Jorah growled. 

"She does want the false queen’s death, she just doesn't want you to be in the way when..." 

And suddenly Jorah understood. This man should get him out of the way so Daenerys could be killed unfettered. 

"So, you want to kill Daenerys?" Jorah asked, becoming unbelievably angry. 

"No... no, no, no, no, I was merely a distraction that will be given the knight title if I succeed in killing you," he replied. 

With these words he pushed himself away from Jorah who couldn't react fast enough because he was so perplexed. He had finally understood what this was all about. But the man just looked around in panic and didn’t attack because he realized that he was hopelessly outmatched. There were Unsullied and Stormcrows all over the square. He grabbed a dagger that had been lying on the ground. 

"I've said too much!" 

And he slit his throat.

Jorah had watched, too shocked to react. 

Daenerys was in danger! In great danger… 

Who was supposed to kill her if not this man? Not... not Daario?! 

No! He would never…! 

But then again, he hadn't seen him anywhere... 

He had to ride back to Daenerys. The city would fall with or without him. He was about to get back on his horse when Grey Worm came. 

"Jorah the Andal, this one thinks there is a problem. We could kill all the Second Sons except those who surrendered. One of them said the leader, the Titan's bastard, fled." 

"I'll deal with it later. I have to see the queen first. I think there's trouble." 

Perhaps Mero and Daario had an alliance? 

"What about the city?" 

"You can manage it without me, Grey Worm. The city is sure to surrender now. Listen, Grey Worm, have you seen Daario around here?” 

"No, I haven't seen Daario. Not yet. But this one is sure. The Stormcrow is around here." 

Jorah didn't pay attention to the rest of his words... 

"Oh no… dammit... Damn me!" 

With these words he rode off. He rushed through the camp, a cloud of dust chasing after his horse. When they left the camp behind them, he accelerated the horse a little more until he thought they were flying over the sand. 

Jorah was already with his queen in his thoughts. However, as often happens, those were not good thoughts. He saw her lying on the ground in a pool of blood, Ser Barristan had a spear driven through his chest. Belwas lay in the entrance and his huge body prevented Jorah from reaching his Khaleesi. 

No! No, he wouldn't let it come to that. 

When he reached the Khaleesi's tent, Ser Jorah jumped off the horse and dashed to the entrance. The horses that should have stood there were gone. Someone had cut them loose so Daenerys couldn’t escape! 

He wanted to shout her name but he pulled himself together to avoid drawing attention to himself. 

His breath stopped... 

Strong Belwas was lying in the entrance. As in his imagination, the corpse blocked his way. Shocked and frightened of what he would find inside, he lifted his foot and with a big step he climbed over the eunuch. 

"I am sorry," he whispered, then looked inside the tent. 

He saw the two fighting men, just as Mero knocked Ser Barristan his sword out of his hand. The older knight could now only dodge the sellsword’s blows. Daenerys crouched on the floor and he noticed that her chin was scratched open. It looked like someone had pushed her to the ground and she hadn't been able to restrain herself. Dany hadn't seen her knight, neither had the two fighters and not a shade of Daario. 

Jorah slowly drew his sword. 

"Come on Selmy, you could do better than that," laughed Mero. 

Then he raised his sword to Barristan's neck. 

"Any last words, Ser?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he lunged out. 

"Don't!" cried Daenerys. 

Jorah stepped out of the shadows; his sword raised. 

"Do you have any?" he growled and attacked. 

The leader of the Second Sons whirled around in fright and barely avoided the sword of Jorah, then he attacked him with a bunch of side blows. Jorah disparaged them all. 

So that's how he'd done Belwas. The eunuch could have never fended off such quick blows. 

Suddenly, the Second Son swirled his sword around and made an attack on Jorah's head. He almost didn't see the blow coming and couldn't intercept it anymore. Instead, he took a step aside and ducked away under the following attack. Then the sellsword made the mistake of spin around for another attack to get more momentum and Jorah kicked him in the back with all his might. 

The Titan's bastard went down. 

Jorah lashed out for the deadly blow, but his legs were kicked away and he landed next to his opponent. He reached for his dagger, but the sheath where it was supposed to be was empty. He had lost it in battle. 

"Jorah, look out!" it came from Dany. 

The sellsword took the opportunity and threw himself on Jorah, trying to stab him with his knife. But before that could happen, a steel point peered out of his throat. 

Ser Barristan had stabbed the bastard. 

He tipped over from Jorah, who was out of breath and stained with blood, lying on his back on the ground. Looked like he got a few scrapes after all. 

The Second Son wanted to say something but he just spat blood all over Jorah who rose and stumbled to his queen. 

"Daenerys! What happened? Are you all right?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he reached out, lifted her up and sat her down on their shared bed. 

"What... what about Belwas?" she asked, still in shock and with tears in her eyes. 

"He... he's dead, Daenerys..." 

As soon as he said that, she burst into tears. 

"Mero... he... he said that the Second Sons would defect to me after all," she tried to explain in a choked voice, but Jorah interrupted her. 

"You can tell me later... Barristan! Fetch one of the healers!" 

The old man nodded and left the tent. Soothingly, Jorah took Dany in his arms and automatically began to stroke her back slowly and regularly. 

"Everything will be all right... I'm here now... no one, I swear to you, no one will get past me," he uttered and felt that Daenerys had regained some composure. 

Reluctantly he let go of her and looked into her violet eyes. 

"I'm here for you ... always", he promised, whereupon she pressed an unexpected kiss on his lips. It would probably have been more than just a kiss if they hadn't heard the hoof patter and excited voices from outside. 

Full of anticipation, the two looked at each other and then stood up to see what had caused the tumult in the camp. 

Were those riders Stormcrows? 

He couldn’t tell… 

Suddenly a horse broke through between two tents and more and more came through the camp via the actual main trail. Sitting on the first horse were Daario, who triumphantly swung his sword, and Grey Worm, who jumped from the animal as soon as it stopped. 

"We have won, Daenerys Stormborn," he said. 

Daario followed him to the Queen. 

"The city has surrounded," he added, and with a smile he laid the blood-stained flag of Yunkai at her feet. 

"Yunkai is yours.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Daario and Jorah are bros in this fic :P


	18. Meereen

The days had come and gone and they had moved on towards Meereen. Some of the freedmen of Yunkai had joined them under loud Mhysa calls. These calls had of course been dedicated to Daenerys and meant mother. They had also been given more ships in Yunkai, loaded with food, so that they could make the journey without starving or dying of thirst. His wounds could hardly be seen and didn't hurt anymore, just as Dany’s wound on her chin. 

"Ser Jorah!" 

Looking back in wonder, he spotted Ser Barristan riding to him. The older knight had put on a serious face and somehow, he seemed a little alone now that Belwas was no longer by his side. 

"What is it, Ser Barristan?" he inquired in amazement and slowed down his brown stallion a little so that the other one could catch up to him faster. 

"I need to speak with you... I should have done this much sooner." 

What was he talking about? 

Jorah frowned, on the one hand because the sun blinded him, on the other hand because he didn't like this situation at all. 

"Are you fully devoted to Daenerys?", the older man asked directly and looked at him forcefully. 

Jorah was speechless... 

How could he presume to ask such a question? 

"I... Of course! I..." 

"Do you truly believe in her?" Selmy interrupted him. 

"With all my heart," Ser Jorah replied. 

"How can you even ask me such a thing, when you know full well that-?" 

"I know you were spying on her for Varys. I've stood guard at enough council meetings to know that," Barristan explained. 

He was silent for a moment, then turned to the old knight. 

"Do you really think I could still spy on her? Do you think that wouldn't eat me up from the inside? Do you think my heart wouldn't be torn apart by my guilty conscience every time I see her?!” 

With every word he got angrier and almost screamed his last question. Fortunately, he had been able to restrain himself. 

"Do you think," he continued, "that I would not suffer enough from my past deeds already?” 

Ser Barristan had listened to his words and now looked at him with one of his annoying, unfathomable looks. 

"So, you stopped?" 

Jorah swallowed. 

"Of course, I did..." 

The former commander of the Kingsguard nodded understandingly. 

"Well, then I don't think our Queen needs to know about this. At least not from me." 

The young knight looked up in relief. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome," muttered Selmy, and an uncomfortable silence fell. 

One of those moments, where you’re trying to think of anything you could say but everything that comes to your mind is either weird or uninteresting… or both. 

"Seven hells..." he heard the other knight say at once and Jorah looked up at the path before them. 

And that's when he saw it. 

A cross erected on the side of the road, a little girl nailed to it. The sun and crows had already done a good job and the face was not even recognizable, but it was clear that this child had been a slave. This was especially evident from the collar around her neck. 

Jorah stopped his horse and behind them there were astonished shouts as they stopped the whole train. Ser Barristan had already dismounted his stallion and looked in shock at the slave girl. 

He noticed Dany, who pushed her way through the crowd. 

“What's going on here?" 

Neither of the men answered. They just pointed at the cross. 

"From now on we will find one such child after every league until we reach Meereen, I will send a group of freedmen forward and order them to take them down. You don’t need to see this," Selmy said. 

"No, I will look each of them in the face and swear revenge," Daenerys contradicted. 

Turning to Jorah, she asked, "How many leagues are there until we reach Meereen?” 

"One hundred and sixty-three, Khaleesi," he answered, grimacing as he realized what it meant. 

She briefly closed her eyes to get herself together again, got back on her horse, which someone had brought in the meantime, and the horde started moving again. Daenerys rode ahead, her face cold as ice. 

After three more days they finally saw the walls of Meereen. The Meereenese must have known they were coming. They welcomed them with laughter, ridicule and threats from their walls. 

The Unsullied lined up in neat groups behind Dany when she stopped. The freed slaves didn’t get it so neatly but no one actually cared. 

The huge gates of the city opened a crack, a single rider came galloping out and the Meereenese began to cheer and scream. 

"What does that mean?" Dany asked in surprise. 

"They send their champion, he challenges you. If you want the Meereenese to listen to you, someone of us must defeat him," Ser Barristan replied as he stopped next to Ser Jorah. 

Before Dany could answer him, Grey Worm said, "My queen, let me win this battle for you.” 

She eyed him briefly.

"Grey Worm, you are the commander of the Unsullied. I cannot risk losing you." 

"Then let me defeat this amateur. I'm not leading an army," said Ser Barristan. 

"You are too important to me as well. You've been with me a long time and you're a good advisor." 

"Then let me try," Jorah suggested and only needed to cast a glance at Dany to know what she would say next. 

"You know, that I would never risk that. I couldn’t even bear the thought of you getting hurt because of something like… this. Also, I need you more than anyone here," Daenerys said in dismay. She had lowered her voice with that last sentence, though. 

He nodded. 

“Alright then..." 

Secretly, it wanted to do it anyway. 

"Let me try, I'm just a sellsword, I haven't been with you long and I'm no good as an advisor. The Stormcrows will follow you even without me," Daario claimed. 

Daenerys looked like she wanted to contradict him for a moment, but then she changed her mind and agreed. 

"Don't you need a horse?" she asked in surprise as the Stormcrow dismounted his. 

"No, horses are fast, but they're also stupid," he answered calmly, took a few steps forward and turned to the challenger, who started to laugh, when he saw this, jumped off his horse and yelled something on Ghiscari. 

"He says that men without... cocks will never defeat Meereen," Missandei translated. 

"He says the Unsullied are not men, but women with hair loss. He will now demonstrate..." 

She broke up, as the Meereenese unlaced his trousers and pissed on the ground in front of them. But that didn’t make Daario insecure, he just stood there and smiled. Even when the champion got back on his horse and started riding towards him, he just kept standing there. The rider became faster and faster. 

Dany looked at the whole thing worried. 

"What…?" 

"He knows what he's doing," Jorah reassured her. 

He knew this trick only too well... typical Daario. 

The rider was only fifteen metres away. The sellsword calmly pulled his dagger, took it by the blade and laid it on his shoulder. He turned once more and winked at Jorah and Dany, then he hurled the dagger at the Meereenese's horse. 

He hit the animal right between the eyes. 

It cried out in pain, stumbled and fell. A huge cloud of dust whirled up, the rider lay on the ground and wound his way out from under the horse. But before he could get up and draw his sword, he was already beheaded. Daario had killed him with his arakh, whirled it calmly in his hand now and then put it away again. 

No one said a thing. 

Complete silence came from the walls of Meereen, then angry howling broke out. Still fully relaxed, Daario unlaced his trousers and pissed towards Meereen. 

Braggart... 

Daario mounted his horse again and looked expectantly at the queen. She just rolled her eyes but Jorah smiled a little. 

"I'm not going to let my beautiful hair be insulted by some aristocratic prick," the Stormcrow grumbled, pretending to be actually offended. 

"Bring the catapults!" Dany ordered without paying attention to him. The freed men rolled eight catapults between the rows of the Unsullied and loaded them with wooden barrels filled with all the collars of the former slaves. 

"Fire!" she shouted without hesitating and her order was passed on. So, the barrels shot towards the city, flew over the walls and burst at the pyramids. Screaming, the Meereenese ducked and tried to protect their heads with their hands. But when they noticed what they were being shot at with, they fell silent in surprise. 

Apparently, they understood Dany’s sign. 

"NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, I WANT TO TELL YOU, THE SLAVES OF MEEREEN, SOMETHING, I DON'T WANT TO NEGOTIATE WITH YOUR MASTERS, THEY ARE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TAKEN YOUR FREEDOM. I HAVE LEARNED THAT IT IS NO USE TALKING TO SUCH PEOPLE. THAT'S WHAT I LEARNED IN ASTAPOR. NOW THE FORMER SLAVES OF THIS CITY ARE STANDING BEHIND ME. FREE! THAT'S WHAT I LEARNED IN YUNKAI. NOW THE FORMER SLAVES OF THIS CITY ARE STANDING BEHIND ME. FREE! NOW I'M COMING TO MEEREEN…!" 

She looked at the dead body of the champion. 

"AND I THINK I'VE LEARNED SOMETHING HERE ALREADY." 

With these words, Daenerys turned her mare around and rode among the Unsullied to the camp the freedmen had already set up. 

Jorah followed her. 

"You’re learning fast", he smiled and expected Dany to smile back. In fact, she tried, but failed miserably. 

"What's the matter?" he asked concerned. 

"I... just think we should take this thing a bit more seriously," she explained and only now he realized how tired she looked. 

"You should sleep... or at least get some rest." 

"No, I can't. Not now. First we need a plan how to conquer Meereen." 

"That can wait until tomorrow..." 

"No! It cannot!" she snapped at him. 

He blinked, surprised, and even she seemed a little shocked. 

"And why not?" he asked calmly. 

"I just want to get this thing over with..." 

"I won’t help you, if you don’t sleep," he insisted and jumped off his horse, as they had arrived at their tent. 

"It’s already late afternoon. Almost evening. You should sleep… I'll be there to settle everything if anyone has any questions." 

Daenerys descended her horse and almost collapsed. 

Seven hells! She truly was tired! 

"Come on. I'll help you..." he offered and let her lean onto him. 

"Thank you... I really don’t know what I - Ahhh!" 

She had one arm around his shoulders, making it easy for him to lift her up. With his arms under her legs and her back, he carried her into the tent to their bed. 

"You’re crazy!" she giggled and clung to him even tighter. 

"Alright, then I won't carry you any longer," he replied and dropped her on the bed. 

"No… Don't go…" she said, suppressing a yawn. 

He put on a crooked smile and kissed her on the forehead. 

"I have to talk to Grey Worm and Daario, and I'm also quite hungry. You wouldn't want your knight to starve, would you?" 

"No... my poor bear." 

He paused at that nickname and looked back at her, astonished. She smiled when she saw his face. 

"Well, don’t you dare look at me like that! Go! I want to sleep!" 

"Alright, alright, I'm going," he chuckled and left the tent. 

Before that he looked at her once more. 

Dany had her face buried in a pillow and she almost looked like a child again. For a moment Jorah wondered if it was right to love her, but then she turned her face to him and he realized once again that he couldn't help it anyway. 

"Grey Worm and I couldn't find any weak points," the older knight explained somewhat dejected, but continued nevertheless, "Only... well... possible advantages. I think if a few of us could manage to get into the city unnoticed and then convince some slaves to start an uprising, the masters would be overthrown by their own slaves. And we could still help if necessary." 

A brief silence followed. The discussion of the battle plan didn't exactly go well. 

"And how do a few of us get into the city?" Daario asked. 

"We've looked at the wall, there are no blind spots ..." Selmy replied. 

Silence again. 

"The wall on the land side may not have weak spots... what about the sea side? It may not be a very appetizing prospect, but surely Meereen has sewers... We could get into the city through them," said Ser Jorah. 

The sellsword pulled a disgusted face, Ser Barristan screwed up his nose, Grey Worm remained motionless, as always, and Daenerys sighed. 

"If that's the only way to take the city before we starve, then that's the way to do it. But who shall I send? I don't think anyone would volunteer for something like this." 

She was wrong about that. 

"The Unsullied can do this. They are afraid of nothing. Not even of stench or dirt," said Grey Worm in his usual monotonous voice. 

"I can't ask you to do that, you don't have to do that. You are soldiers, not sewer rats. None of us is," said Dany. 

"But we want to serve queen, even if it means that we do such thing," replied the Unsullied. 

First, she hesitated, then the queen agreed with a nod. 

"Alright, then. Grey Worm and a hundred of his men go to the coast at night and search for the entrance. The sewers are tangled and with only a few men you would get lost mercilessly. They must get into the sewers and come out somewhere in the city. What then?", she asked. 

Jorah pondered. 

"Some Unsullied go to the gates and wait for a sign to open them, and they also watch the guards, who will certainly be slaves too. The rest goes to the great fighting pit, where weapons are stored and slaves are kept. The pit should be easy to find… Somehow the Unsullied will have to convince them to raise their weapons and go to the other slaves to convince them as well. As soon as the city destroys itself from the inside, the guards on the walls will surely become inattentive or even leave to join the uprisings. The remaining Unsullied come, finish off all those who are still there and won’t surrender, and then open the gate. One Unsullied comes back to the camp and informs us of the situation in the city." 

"That might work," Ser Barristan agreed. 

"It all depends on the slaves," muttered Daario. 

"When?" Dany asked, ignoring the Stormcrow. 

This time Daario answered before Jorah could. 

"This night?" 

She nodded. 

"Do the Unsullied agree, Grey Worm?" 

"Yes, my queen." 

"Good. Prepare your men for the sewers and the attack of the city when the gates open. I hope we win... If we don't meet again before the battle begins, good luck. You may all go now."

"They are opening the gates! THE GATES…!" 

Jorah got startled. 

Pitched darkness surrounded him, which meant that it was still in the middle of the night. Dany was lying beside him, still asleep. He reached out his hand and stroked her arm. 

"Wake up..." 

"Ugh... what is it?" she murmured and almost immediately fell asleep again. 

Now he shook her a little. 

"Come on! They've opened the gates..." 

She opened her eyes and cursed, "Seven hells, why didn't you say so?" 

Dany got up and staggered still sleepily to her pile of clothes. As soon as they were both dressed, they left the tent together and spotted Daario who was coming towards them. 

"Are the Stormcrows ready?" 

"We always are… the question is, for what?", he replied. 

"For whatever awaits us in the city, of course," she snapped at him, slightly unnerved. 

Suddenly, they heard hooves drumming on the sandy ground. Jorah looked around and saw Grey Worm riding towards them. The Unsullied made his horse halt just before them, so that a light cloud of dust was stirred up. 

He dismounted and as he turned to them, Ser Jorah saw him smile for the first time... ever. 

"The city is yours, Daenerys Stormborn."

"Mhysa! Mhysa! Mhysa!"

They passed through crowds of people, small children ran before them, announcing their arrival and leading them through the city to the great pyramid. 

There were only freed slaves who shouted and rejoiced, not a shadow of their masters. But Jorah knew only too well where they were. The Unsullied had rounded them up and were now waiting with them at the pyramid. 

When they reached said location, a raging crowd of freedmen greeted them. They threw stones at their former masters and hissed insults in various languages. The Unsullied had their hands full keeping them away from their masters. But they all fell silent when Daenerys stepped onto an elevated platform, closely followed by Jorah, Selmy, Daario, Grey Worm and other Unsullied. 

"We have gathered here to celebrate your liberation and to punish those who have brought decades of injustice upon you and all your families. This is over now! I promise," shouted Daenerys and turned to her advisors, to asked casually, but in a way that everyone could hear, "Ser Barristan, how many children were nailed to the cross from Yunkai to Meereen?” 

"One hundred and sixty-three, Your Grace." 

"One hundred and sixty-three... So many lives given in vain," she said absent-mindedly. 

She looked at Grey Worm and nodded. Grey Worm, in turn, gave an order in High Valyrian and the Unsullied started pushing and shoving the masters with their shields towards a path where one hundred and sixty-three crosses were erected and where other soldiers were already waiting with long iron nails and hammers. The masters whimpered and begged for mercy from Daenerys, but she looked at them with disgust. 

"Your Grace, a word." 

"What is it, Ser Barristan?" 

"I know you think this is the right way, but sometimes it is better to answer injustice with mercy." 

"Well, I answer injustice with justice.”

"But-" 

"No, Ser Barristan. My mind is made up." 

She turned away again. 

Jorah winced slightly as the first cry of pain echoed across Meereen. A second one followed and another one hundred and sixty-one.


	19. Yes? - Yes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite chapters... it was a lot of fun to write xD

“Joffrey Baratheon is dead,” Jorah announced, whereupon everyone looked at him surprised but also happy. They were sitting in the queen’s chamber, discussing the most recent events, so they could plan their next actions. 

“Are you in earnest, Ser?” Ser Barristan asked. 

The younger knight smiled. 

“Yes… I am. They talk about nothing else but this at the harbour. Some say, he was killed by his uncle at his own wedding, others say, the sight of his new wife took his breath… literally. There are more rumours but they all have one thing… one aspect in common. Joffrey died at his own wedding… and it was probably murder.” 

“Those are… great news!” Daenerys delighted and Daario laughed, “Apparently, weddings are more dangerous than battles in Westeros!” 

“How do you know about the Red Wedding?” Dany asked startled, turning to the Stormcrow. 

“Well, I might be a filthy sellsword but I’m not living under a rock.” 

He had a point. 

Before Joffrey’s death, everyone had been talking about that massacre… the so-called Red Wedding. It must have been horrible. 

“I have news as well!”, the sellsword claimed, since everyone else was quiet.

“The Stormcrows have taken the Meereenese navy.” 

“Why?” 

Daenerys was obviously baffled but Jorah saw a spark of rage raising inside her as well. 

“I heard you’d like ships,” Daario smirked. 

Daenerys closed her eyes, to calm herself. When she opened them again, the rage was gone. 

“And how many ships?” 

“Ninety-three, Your Grace”, answered Ser Barristan. 

She considered the situation. 

“How many men can they contain?” 

“Nine-thousand-three-hundred, excluding seamen.” 

“Was that enough for an attack of King’s Landing, Jorah?“ 

“Could be enough… The Lannisters have more.” 

“Their soldiers are tired. They’ve been fighting Joffrey’s battles for years… risking their lives for him. Now their king is dead and a child is sitting on the iron throne. Eight thousand Unsullied united with the Stormcrows sailing into Blackwater’s bay and taking the city. The Lannisters could never stop us.” 

„You’re right, Ser Barristan, but we have to consider, that we don’t just want to take the city but also hold it including the rest of the seven kingdoms. We need allies. I think Dorne could be of use… It’s south, yes, but we should find allies thanks to Elia Martell,” Jorah claimed. 

“The old houses will align with our queen,” Selmy assured. 

"Well then, it might be enough. Considering that we also have the dragons, it shouldn't be too difficult, as long as everything goes as just discussed," the younger knight assumed. 

The eyes of his Khaleesi lit up and they all exchanged delighted looks. Jorah enjoyed this exuberant mood and almost didn't say his next words. But it wouldn't help to repress something like that. So, he cleared his throat to get some attention again. 

"There is other news." 

"Which would be...?" Dany inquired anxiously, realizing that this was probably unpleasant news. 

"Astapor... The council you set up... the members were all killed by a resistance group led by a so-called King Cleon. He's a freed slave too, and doesn't want to disobey you, he just thinks Astapor would be better off with him as king...” 

"What else?" 

"Yunkai... without the Unsullied, who kept the Wise Men under control, they have now regained power and enslaved those freedmen, who stayed. They have sworn vengeance on you... bitter vengeance." 

These words were followed by a heavy silence... 

"Leave me alone. Go!" Daenerys commanded, gloomy. 

Jorah remained sitting and watched the others go down the stairs to the passage and then disappear into it. 

“I’ve told everyone to leave, Jorah… including you,” Dany said, when she saw that he was still there. 

He stood up and walked to her. 

“Let me show you something,” he bid and took her hand, leading his queen outside on the patio. 

Looking at all the roofs and streets and smaller pyramids, he asked, “You see that?” 

The sun just set, putting the scene in a reddish light. 

“Meereen… Ancient and reigned by the masters for centuries. Slaves were oppressed, tortured and killed. You ended it… Nobody else could do that. And to be fair, it’s not your fault that the freedmen of Yunkai got enslaved again. It’s theirs. And maybe that Cleon isn’t too bad. After all, he didn't reintroduce slavery in Astapor. In fact, you shouldn't even care... We could just sail off to Westeros and leave it all behind." 

He locked eyes with her. 

“You’re doing this to make the world a better place… and there are only are few people trying that. You are one of them. You are Daenerys Targaryen. Mother of Dragons. You’re a wonderful queen, even if it seems at the moment like you can’t control slaver’s bay… We can retake Yunkai and talk with Cleon. If that’s what you want.“ 

“Yes… that’s what I want,” she answered low. 

“Then we’ll stay. The people trust you, because they know that you care about them. They will help you to reign. And of course, I’ll help you too,” he ended with a smile and before he knew it, he was in a hug with his little queen. 

“Thank you… for everything.” 

Her voice cracked as she whispered those words against his arm and he felt that she was smiling. 

Daenerys looked up to him, with her wonderful, violet-glowing eyes that matched so good with her silver hair. He felt her warm body pressed against his, not a single millimetre separating them... It was that moment when he forgot everything and knelt down before her. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Only when the words were spoken out loud did he realize what he had just said and how crazy it was, but Dany just gasped in delight. 

“Yes…” 

“Yes?”, he repeated surprised and got up again. 

“YES!” she squeaked and kissed him fiercely. 

“I thought you’d never asked”, she gasped still just as overwhelmed as he was. 

Jorah laughed shakily and felt tears filling his eyes. Daenerys kissed him again and again and when they parted, he rested his forehead against hers. 

“I love you, Daenerys,” he sniffed. 

“I love you so much.”

The next day they met again, as already announced. It was a short meeting though, as Daenerys only said that she would stay here and rule Meereen, and then gave some instructions for the patrols. By staying in Meereen she had to hold court, of course. Which began the next day.

He shouldn’t have asked… He should’ve just kept going like before. 

But no! 

Of course, he hadn’t! 

Of course, he had had to ask Daenerys when he was out of his head for a moment! 

He'd like to slap himself, but that wouldn't help either. He was making it harder on himself every day... 

He should have told Dany right away what he had done… that he had spied on her... 

He should have told her on the Balerion! She couldn't have sent him away... She could have killed him, yes, but she wouldn't have been able to stand it for long, being on a ship with his corpse... of course she could have thrown his body into the water... or her dragons could have eaten him... or she could have killed herself! 

No! No, no, no! 

He was a bloody idiot! 

A knocking at the door tore Jorah out of his thoughts. Tense, he got out of his bed and put on his pants and shirt as fast as he could. 

"I'm coming!" he shouted annoyed when there was another knock. 

He ripped open the door and found Daenerys standing in front of him. 

"I don't understand why we can't just sleep in the same room," she greeted him reproachfully and stepped inside so he could close the door. 

He was startled.

"Well... I … as long as I'm just considered your lover, I don't want to... it seems so exaggerated for outsiders..." he tried to explain, still surprised that it was her, who had waked him. 

"I mean… I understand you," Dany interrupted his stuttering before he could twist his tongue into a knot, and caressed his cheek. 

He exhaled in relief and began to lace up his shirt further. 

"Well, what is it?" he asked in the meantime and looked up briefly. 

"I'm just... a little excited. You know that I've never held court before. So, I was wondering if you could give me some advice.” 

“Mh… You could’ve asked me in the court hall later,” he smirked, knowing what would come next. 

“But… I wanted to see you,” she mumbled and his chest filled with warmth. 

When she saw the look on his face, she bit her lower lip and her cheeks flushed, which made him smile even more. She quickly changed the subject. 

"I never knew your room was so small." 

Jorah looked around. 

Indeed, it wasn't big. It had a bed, a small table, two chairs and a wardrobe. But only when you went to the wardrobe did you notice the hallway leading to a small patio by the pyramid. 

"Well, I don't spend much time here," he confessed. 

"Actually, I just sleep here... usually I'm outside." 

"Outside?" 

Curiously, she followed him. 

A red fabric was partly stretched over the platform, so the sun wouldn’t burn down on one. The sun had just risen and was already making people suffer from its merciless heat. There was also another table, but it was much bigger than the one inside. On this table, piles of cards and parchment rolls were spread out. In addition, as with most patios in Meereen, two trees were planted here. In Jorah’s case, there were two peach trees. 

When he turned back to Daenerys, he saw her standing on her tiptoes to smell a peach blossom. 

"It's lovely here... So... so quiet," she said as she looked around. 

Jorah sat down on the table and looked at Dany as she stood there, letting her gaze wander across Meereen. 

"Is it a coincidence that these are peach trees?" she asked him with a knowing smile. 

"Ah damn! You got me!" he chuckled. 

"Of course, it's not a coincidence." 

She rolled her eyes and strolled to the small wall that bordered the patio. 

"So... advice... I don't know if I'm the right person for this. I probably know no more about it than you do. All I can tell you is that you should act on your feelings. You have a good heart and if you act on it, you'll make a great queen. However, if you should need help, you can always approach your advisors. Ser Barristan, Missandei and I will always be with you and not only as guards." 

She nodded slowly. 

"I'm still scared..." 

"That's alright, Daenerys," he assured her and got up from the table, to go to her. 

Out of habit he looked up to the patio of the Khaleesi, which was about ten meters above them. He noticed that a person was standing there. 

"Seven hells, what...?" 

Then he noticed the flashing of steel in the sun and realized that this was a crossbow. 

That man was holding a crossbow in his hands! 

Was he trying to...? 

In a split second, the knight grabbed the fruit plate that stood on the table, jumped in front of Daenerys and held up the plate with both his hands so that it covered his face, his throat and to some extent his chest. And as expected, an arrow whizzed through the air and pierced the wood, right where he held it with his left hand. 

He gasped in horror, gritted his teeth and turned to Dany. She looked at him shocked, her mouth opened. 

"What...? You're bleeding!" 

"Doesn’t matter." 

They had to get out of the line of fire. He grabbed Dany's hand with his right one, looking around anxiously. They only had a few seconds left. They wouldn't make it to the entrance to the pyramid. 

In his mind, he counted the time left. 

Four. 

Damn! 

Three. 

"Under the table!" 

Two. 

They ran. 

One. 

Dany crawled under the thick wooden board. 

Zero. 

The arrow hit him in the leg. 

He became dizzy with pain and thought he would have to vomit. He didn't know if he was making any sounds, but he heard Dany's scream very clearly and felt her pull him under the table... 

Had he fallen down? 

"What's happening?" she whimpered desperately. 

He blinked a few times and his vision cleared up. 

"I... I don't know." 

He heard another arrow being shot and drilled into the tabletop. 

Jorah closed his eyes... just briefly... briefly. 

He needed a break. Just a sh- 

"Jorah! No, no, no, no! You need to stay awake!" 

He forced himself to open them again and stared in Dany's face, which was right above his. 

"I'm hurt...I won't die...not now and not like this!" he growled and tried to convince himself of those words. 

"I know, my bear..." she whispered and put a hand on his chest so she could feel his pulse. 

Again, an arrow drilled into the tabletop. But it was too thick for anything to penetrate. 

"We must bandage your wounds," she said, tearing a strip of fabric off her dress and three more. 

She tied the first one around his upper left arm to stop the blood flow a little. With the second one she did the same only on his thigh and with the other two she bandaged the wounds. 

"What do we do now?", the Khaleesi asked and tried to calm down a bit. 

"At some point... that bastard must stop shooting," he said and tried to smile, failing miserably. 

"And what if he comes down to us?" 

"He wouldn't dare... and if he's that stupid, I'll kill him," he swore and Dany put her head on his chest. 

Carefully he stroked her hair with his right, unharmed hand. It was like liquid silver running through his fingers. He would not let anything happen to her. 

"I... have something to tell you," he muttered. 

It was time to tell her about Varys. If he didn't survive this, she would find out eventually and she would only have a bad memory of him. He didn't want that. 

"You have to know, I never wanted this... I-I had to agree to it..." 

"What are you talking about?", she interrupted him somewhat disturbed and lifted her head a little again to be able to look into his eyes. 

"I..." he started and tried to swallow. 

"It stopped!" Dany stated at once. 

He sighed but was also kind of happy that she had interrupted him. She was about to stretch out her head to see if the shooter was still there, but Jorah stopped her. 

"Are you crazy?! What if it’s just a trap?" he hissed angrily and pulled her back again. 

"Sorry..." she murmured. 

He rolled his eyes and then sat up to see for himself. 

"What are you doing?" she asked horrified and tried to push him back down to the floor. 

"Someone must look… And you certainly won't!" he said and gently pushed her aside. 

He felt his heart begin to beat faster and then he stuck his head out from under the table. His gaze flitted across the whole patio, but no one was standing there anymore. Slowly he pushed himself even further and found himself without cover. But nothing happened. 

Everything seemed safe. 

Carefully he stood up moaning and clinging to the table. His leg hurt unbearably and his hand burned as if it was on fire, but he tried to ignore that. 

"I think... you can come. But stay behind me." 

She crawled out from under the table and stumbled straight to him. Dany clung to his right arm, frightened, and the two of them limped inside, unsteadily. 

"Did he... leave?", she asked incredulously, getting some colour in her face again. 

But Jorah was still as white as a sheet. Everything around him was blurred because of the pain and he felt his legs trying to give way under his weight. Quickly he staggered to his bed and sat down. 

"I'll fetch one of the Graces," Daenerys said and was about to go to the door. 

"No! The shooter might still-!" 

Bam! 

Someone had slammed the door open and was standing in the room now. The man held a crossbow in his hands and wore a golden mask. It was definitely the shooter. 

And Daenerys stood directly in front of him. 

She had no time to take cover anywhere. 

"No!", Jorah nearly roared, reaching reflexively for his knives that were lying on the small bedside table. 

It was as if someone had slowed time down. 

Briefly distracted by the knight's shout, the stranger didn't immediately fire his crossbow and Jorah had enough time to strike out and throw the knife he had just grabbed. 

With eyes wide open, he jumped up, hoping that the blade would pierce the shooter's heart. And it did, but that was not the end. 

He had still managed to pull the trigger. 

The knight threw himself with full force against Daenerys and they both smashed hard to the ground. 

He had closed his eyes; a constant beeping had started in his head and he was afraid to open his eyes again because he was afraid to see an arrow stuck in Dany's heart. But then he felt someone pressing lips on his and he doubted that this was the shooter… and he also knew what Dany's lips felt like. 

He returned his queen's kiss in relief, still keeping his eyes closed. Then, without warning, he lost consciousness and found himself alone in total darkness.


	20. Little did she know...

"Before you stands the Honourable Hizdhar zo Loraq, proud heir..." 

Daenerys sat silently on her wooden throne and tried to listen to her supplicants, but her thoughts kept flying back to her wounded knight. Jorah. Her bear. 

Whenever she closed her eyes, she had horrible flashbacks of the moment the second arrow had struck him. How he had thrown himself against her to get her out of the way... how she had kissed him and how he had simply fainted. 

He had been still breathing when the Unsullied had carried him to his bed. He hadn’t lost too much blood, the wound on the hand hurt but wasn’t that serious and the one of his leg wasn’t bad either, at least that’s what the Blue Grace had told her. 

What had Jorah been thinking? 

Dany had decided not to hold court until the afternoon, Jorah clearly was her priority. But after she had spent some time at his bed, she had had to realize that there was nothing she could do for him. Frustrated, she had gone to her rooms where she had bathed and her new servants had changed her clothes. 

When she had come to the court hall to start, she couldn’t concentrate. She constantly got into a tangle and often didn’t even hear what the supplicants wanted from her. Missandei's voice finally brought her back to reality. 

"You have the honour of standing before Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, breaker of chai-" 

The young scribe fell silent as Daenerys stood up, telling her with a wink to stop. 

"What is your business, Noble… Hizdhar zo Loraq?" she inquired, trying not to sound bored. 

"It's about my father ...who, among others, helped to maintain this pyramid." 

And what was that supposed to mean? 

"Well... it would be an honour to meet him myself to thank him," she said politely. 

"You have already met him," Hizdhar said coolly. 

Surprised, Dany raised her eyebrows. 

"I doubt-" 

"You had him nailed to one of the crosses," he cut off her word. 

Daenerys fell silent, stunned. 

"That was justice…," she finally replied. 

"Your father had little children nailed to crosses, which were eaten by crows and vultures and-" 

"My father spoke out against crucifixion, but he was outvoted," he interrupted her again. 

Now, however, he paused for a moment, as if he had said too much, but then continued nevertheless: 

"But of course, I have not come to question your actions, you are the Queen and I am merely a son who has loved his father and will always love him even after death.” 

"And what do you want?" 

"I would like to pay my last respect to my father, as we do with all our dead. I beg you to allow me to remove my father from his cross so that we may bury him in the temple of Graces.” 

Dany was silent. 

If she allowed it, she would show weakness. Maybe it would even look like she was doubting herself. But it might also seem like a good gesture. 

"I see… You may take him off," she decided reluctantly. 

"Thank you, Magnificent, thank you. You are a good queen," Hizdhar thanked exaggeratedly and with a bow. Almost so overdone that Dany thought he was mocking her. 

As the man left the hall, she sighed, "How many more?" 

"Two hundred and twelve, Your Grace," Missandei replied. 

"Two hundred and twelve," repeated the queen incredulously, sighing inwardly. 

It was more tiring than she had expected.

Daenerys was having dinner with Missandei when someone knocked at the door. Astonished, she looked at the little scribe, but she only shrugged, so she got up and walked to the entrance of her private chambers. As soon as she opened the door, a strange smell enveloped her. 

"Good evening, Khaleesi," Daario smirked, making his gold tooth gleam. 

He must have perfumed his almost shoulder-length, blue hair. She didn't like the Stormcrow, leaving alone the trust she put in him. 

"What is it?" she asked somewhat curiously. 

"I... May I come in?" 

"Of course," she said, closing the door behind the sellsword as soon as he had entered the room. 

"I'm having dinner with Missandei", she explained and sat down next to her friend again. 

"Well, I don't want to interrupt you two, but I'd like to make a suggestion, Your Grace.” 

"What suggestion?" 

"The Stormcrows are not made for patrolling. We are fighters and conquerors, not city guards. So, I wanted to ask you if we could move back to Yunkai to restore order in the city. According to your instructions, of course." 

She thought about it for a moment... 

It wasn't a bad idea. But could she trust him enough? 

"Alright. I'll consider that suggestion of yours and discuss it with you tomorrow", she determined. 

Daario nodded gratefully and turned away to leave again. 

"Oh, I’m sorry! There was something else...”, he chuckled and looked back at her. 

“I wanted to tell you that Jorah is awake now," he declared, casually. 

Daenerys jumped up. 

"What?! Are you serious? Why didn't you say so at first!?" 

She gave the sellsword another reproachful look, making him laugh even more, and then just dashed out of her chambers on the way to Jorah's room. She almost got lost in corridors, but finally she was standing in front of the right door. 

Excited, she knocked on it, then just pressed the handle and opened it. She remained standing in the door frame, though. In front of her stood one of the graces who had just wanted to come to the door to let her in. Dany's gaze darted immediately to the bed and she gasped for breath in relief and happiness when she saw her bear sitting there. 

He looked up and his azure eyes widened in delight, when he recognized her. 

How she had missed him... 

She rushed to Jorah and flung her arms around his neck. 

"I'm so glad you woke up again...", she breathed against his ear and ran a hand through his hair when she let go of him. 

It had gotten a little greasy, but smelled like him as always. He smiled his typical loving smile, his big, bright eyes melting her heart. In this moment he didn't look a bit like a dangerous knight who would kill anyone to protect her. The thought made her smile even more and she felt tears coming up. 

"And I’m so glad that nothing happened to you," he replied croaky and shortly afterwards had to cough terribly. 

She sat down and placed a hand on his back. In no time, the grace was back and poured the Knight a drink. 

"What is this?" he asked, shuddering in disgust, when he had swallowed it. 

The healer didn't move a muscle. 

"Something to help you sleep." 

"No... no, I don't want to..." 

But his eyes already fell shut and he collapsed in himself. Cautiously the Khaleesi and the other woman moved him onto his bed. 

"I think you should go to bed, too, Your Worship," the Grace said. 

Dany nodded slowly, gave her bear one last look and then left the room. This visit had given her some strength again.

"I heard there was a council meeting today," Jorah brought up and took a lusty bite of a piece of bread. 

"Yes...", Dany confirmed rather less enthusiastically. 

"There were more attacks on Unsullied who stood guard... Six were found dead, one was still alive, but died of his wounds before help could be called. All had a mask of the Harpy lying nearby. And Yunkai... Well, Yunkai declared war on us and hired some new sellsword armies. The Wise Masters are hoping for Astapor's support, but Cleon isn't quite sure if he wants to get involved..." 

"He'll join the Yunkish," Jorah claimed, taking a large sip of water. 

It was good that after three weeks, he had regained his appetite. 

"Why are you so sure of that?" she asked in amazement and he returned her gaze casually. 

"I don't know, it's a feeling. He will definitely not join you... But what about Daario and his Stormcrows? I thought you sent them to Yunkai so they could keep order there.” 

"They're not back yet," she replied grumpy. 

"And I doubt they'll ever come back... at least not on our side." 

Jorah had just tried to bite off his bread again but his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. 

"What do you mean, not on our side?" 

"Just as I said it", Dany replied angrily and her bear stared at his bread in astonishment. 

"That can't be... He would never do that. It must be a trick or-" 

"Why don't you just accept it?" she interrupted him, noticing how angry she was and trying to continue more gently. 

"Daario has changed. The man you knew no longer exists.” 

"Looks like we can’t trust anyone anymore these days…” grumbled the knight and placed the tray on the small bedside table. 

"I trust you," she said with a smile. 

She had expected him to smile back at her, he actually tried it, but he didn't quite succeed. There was a distinct uneasiness in his eyes. 

What did that mean? 

Was he- 

No. No… She probably just imagined it. She just got a little paranoid... a little lot. 

"The Graces allow me to resume my duties starting tomorrow", he changed the topic awkwardly and this time his smile was sincere. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Well, maybe not all of them... but the most important ones. I can finally be with you when you hold court, I can go to the council meetings again, and most importantly: I can finally be in the Great Pyramid again without supervision. At last I don't have to tell anyone when I go to the privy," he laughed, but fell silent again when he realized that this was not quite as appropriate. 

But Dany had no problem with it. She had missed those small chuckles of his that escaped him whenever he was amused about something. 

"Mh… I guess I'll have to disappoint you," apologized Dany seriously and with big, bumptious eyes. 

"Because tomorrow I'm not holding court. So… you won't have anything to do..." 

"Ahhh, damn..." he sighed. 

“I could think of a few other tasks, you know...” 

“Could you?”, he whispered, his voice husky. 

She smirked and leaned a little forward, placing a hand on his tight. 

“But you'll probably need to ask for permission." 

He narrowed his eyes and put on a slim smile. 

"I don't think so..."

"You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of the House of Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of Slaver’s bay and rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, Mhysa, Khaleesi, the unburned and breaker of chains," Missandei said flatly, as so often on this day, and stepped aside to let the old man come forward. 

He was terribly thin, you could count all his ribs, and he looked unkempt, as if he no longer cared about his appearance. 

"What? What did she say? What is happening?" he reeled in old Ghiscari and Missandei translated it for Dany. 

"I have introduced the queen, you may explain your request now ", the scribe explained, smiling friendly. 

The man nodded and Daenerys saw that his lips began to tremble and suddenly the stranger fell on his knees and began to cry. She stared at him, too shocked to reacted. 

No matter what he had to say... her heart was already broken because of this sight. 

"It was the black... the black dread they call him," he lamented and laid a bundle of cloth in front of him. 

"I was with my girl among the goats... when I heard him... I wanted to run to her, but by then it was already... too late. He burned her, along with my goats!" 

"No... No, he wouldn't do that... never! You're lying!" 

Dany contradicted, feeling her eyes starting to burn, as Missandei had translated. 

The old man looked at her, scared, then showed her what he had brought. 

It was a skeleton... the bones were burnt. She had seen many of them in the last weeks, as many just slaughtered their sheep, burned the bones a little and then came to her to tell her that Drogon had done this because she was actually paying them three times the value of the sheep as compensation. She had stopped doing so, however, after the stories had become more and more bizarre and you could tell at a glance that this had not been a dragon. 

That's why she was upset at first, she thought the man was one of these people too, but then she saw the bones. They were not sheep or goat bones... They were clearly the bones of a little girl. 

Dany swallowed and tried to hold back her tears, but the supplicant had started talking again and she just couldn't bear it any longer. 

"He-he came down from the clouds... I screamed... Oh-oh-oh-ohhhh my poor girl, what did he do to you? Ohhhhhh...!" 

"Enough!" she shouted in a half-choked voice and jumped up from her throne. 

"Please... I'm so sorry... I... don't know what to do... What do you want from me?" 

The man looked up again said, "I want the dragons locked away. I want to live safely and without fear." 

No. No, she couldn't do that. 

"I..." 

They were her children! She couldn't lock them away! 

"...will consider your request."

"I can't do it! I don't want to!" cried Daenerys, not even trying to hold back her tears. 

"You don't have to!" Jorah replied, quickly putting his foot between the door and the door frame before she could slam it shut and lock herself in. 

"What would the Dragon Queen be without her dragons?" he gasped in pain and pushed the door open again. 

"That’s not helpful," she sobbed and rushed to her bed. 

"Daenerys!" he called out and dashed after her. 

"I'm just trying to make clear that... you don't have to do this." 

She just shook her head wordlessly and let herself fall into the pillows. Her bear slowly sat down next to her. 

"Nobody said it would be easy... But you can count on me, I will help you rule if you let me." 

He lay back and turned his face towards her. They were at eye level and she had no choice but to meet his gaze. 

"I will help you as servant, as soldier, as hand or as your husband... it doesn't matter", he whispered softly and took her hand. 

"We can do it together." 

"Oh my sweet bear..." she breathed and wiped her tears away. 

"What have I done to deserve you?" 

"I ask myself the same question every time I see you," he replied and she could not help smiling. 

"I'll take Viserion and Rhaegal to the catacombs tomorrow... Drogon will join them when he returns. They shall not escape unscathed.” 

"But that was just Drogon... What did Viserion and Rhaegal do?" he asked, confused. 

"I can't risk them learning something from their brother and imitating it... if I don't lock them up, they'll start hunting them." 

Her knight had nothing to add to that.

It had been difficult to lure her two children into the catacombs. Suspiciously, they had followed their mother, or rather the smell of blood lost from the dead cattle that had served as bait. They hadn’t noticed the huge iron chains lying on the ground next to them, but had immediately darted at the meat and started eating it. 

Jorah had watched Dany from the gate, but he had turned away and left when she carefully strapped the iron ring around Rhaegal's neck. 

She was sorry too... but there was no other way. 

Brooding, Daenerys lay in her huge bed, wishing her knight by her side. He had meant they should at least be a bit lonely at night and in their sleep, although he appreciated their togetherness very much. 

And he was right, they couldn’t do everything together. 

Furious, she turned on her back, because she had just had a terribly absurd thought for which she would like to slap herself. 

What if he no longer loved her or she was getting on his nerves? 

But no, he would clearly behave differently if that were the case. Suddenly she remembered the fortune teller from Astapor and the moment she had realized that she still didn't know everything about her bear. 

He kept secrets from her... or at least one. A dark one, no doubt, or he'd tell her. 

But what could it be? What could possibly be so bad that he was afraid to tell her? 

She racked her brains over this question, but all the answers that came to her mind were too absurd and just didn't fit Jorah... It didn't fit him at all to not confide in her. 

"What are you hiding, my bear?" Daenerys whispered into the darkness. 

Little did she know that she would get an answer very soon...


	21. Realization

"So... how do I tell Missandei I like she?" Grey Worm asked while Jorah and he were having lunch with all the other Unsullied. 

"You can tell her that she... means a lot to you and that she is… precious to you," the knight replied, thinking of his Khaleesi. 

"Precious?" repeated Grey Worm insecure. 

"Yes, it means as much as valuable... like a treasure." 

The general of the Unsullied nodded and said, "And how is your hand?" 

It couldn't have been more obvious that he was desperate to change the subject, but Jorah accepted and understood that. 

"It's healing... I can't quite move it yet, but it'll be fine." 

"That's good." 

He agreed and then got up to take his plate away. 

He hoped for Grey Worm that Missandei would return his love, since he knew what it was like when that wasn't the case. Lost in thought he wanted to go to his room but somehow, they had wandered to Rhaegal and Viserion and he just had to go to them and see how they were doing. So, he turned and hurried to the exit of the Great Pyramid. 

There was a lot of activity in the streets of Meereen and sometimes he had to squeeze through the crowds. He noticed how frightened some of them looked over their shoulders every few seconds as if they were afraid of being attacked. 

It was clear who they were afraid of. The Harpies. 

By this time that resistance group had killed over fifty people. More than half of them were Unsullied, the rest ordinary citizens who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Jorah had no qualms about being attacked in the middle of the road. The Harpies were not that stupid. Unfortunately... 

He turned left and after a few minutes arrived at the entrance of the catacombs. Five Unsullied stood before the huge stone that was supposed to prevent the dragons from escaping even if they had melted the chains. 

"Good afternoon," he greeted them and raised his hands to show that he was not carrying any weapons. 

The Unsullied had fortunately recognized him and one of them asked, "What is it, Jorah the Andal?" 

"I... would like to see the dragons. Just see if they are all right... according to the circumstances," he explained rather awkwardly. 

"Has the queen sent you?" 

"Yes," he lied without hesitation. 

They would never let him in otherwise... 

The Unsullied exchanged suspicious looks. 

"She never sends someone else to look after the dragons. She always comes along," one of them claimed. 

"Yes, I know, but do you really think I would just go to the dragons without weapons, knowing that I could be grilled at any time?” 

That was apparently still not convincing enough, so he continued talking. 

"Look, worst-case scenario, I get roasted. I can't hurt the dragons; I leave my weapons here. I don't want to scare them, though I doubt they'll be afraid of a sword." 

Silence. 

"All right, leave your weapons here and you may enter." 

The knight nodded and began to remove his weapon belt. The Unsullied rolled the stone a little aside, creating a small gap through which a person could just about fit. They gave him a torch, lit it and then waited for him to go in. Carefully, Jorah squeezed himself through the gap and held his torch up. 

In front of him were steps that led down and to the dragons. 

He swallowed. 

Would Rhaegal recognize him? Would they really not burn him? If they did, it would be pretty much one of the most unnecessary deaths of the month. 

He began to descend the steps and with each step, his heart seemed to beat louder. 

Why did he do that again? 

Well, he couldn't go back now. Could he? 

He looked briefly over his shoulder to the small crack through which the light came in and looked resolutely forward again. 

"Rhaegal? Viserion?" 

No response. 

"I know you're here..." 

Still nothing. 

He continued to descend step by step and the smell of burnt and mouldy meat wafted towards him. 

"Come on! You know me... I'm not going to hurt you... And I hope that this is mutual." 

Nothing. 

Maybe he should just stop babbling. 

He had reached the bottom of the stairs. 

"I... have something for you..." he said, going through his bag, looking for the little pieces of meat he'd picked up. And finally, he found one. 

"Rhaegal..." 

He threw it into the darkness before him. 

"...Dracarys!" 

Mortified, he dropped the torch, when suddenly a yellow-orange flame burst out of nowhere and lit up the whole cave. But Jorah couldn't see anything because the sudden light blinded him too much and the heat wave made him stumble back a few steps. 

Then there was complete darkness again, in which the knight heard scales scratching on the floor and also a soft screeching. When he stood up again, he almost tripped over the torch. One of the dragons gave a growl and set the whole torch on fire. 

Then he finally saw the two of them. 

They were much bigger than he had remembered them. When they raised their heads, they were now almost twice his size. 

The knight swallowed again. 

The looks of the two were not threatening, but you could tell that they were irritated. Slowly he took another piece of meat from his pocket and threw it to Viserion. 

"Dracarys..." 

Immediately the golden-cream-coloured dragon opened his mouth, a golden flame burst out and burnt the flesh. Then he devoured it. 

Jorah smiled hesitantly. 

"You see... I'm not going to hurt you." 

Carefully, Rhaegal took a few steps towards him and he had to pull himself together not to back away from him. The green dragon stretched out his snout and nudged the knight's hand a little. The knight felt the hot breath in his palm and the scales scratched him a little. Suspiciously he moved his hand and started stroking the dragon's snout. He seemed to like that and he made a funny... dragon purr. 

Jorah laughed precarious and then noticed Viserion sniffing on his other hand. He had never had a good connection with him, so he was quite surprised, but raised his left hand, stroked the dragon’s snout and then scratched him under the chin, as he did with Rhaegal. 

"You like that, huh?" he asked and then let go of both. 

He should get back. He'd been gone for a while; in the end someone would notice. 

"I'll come back soon," he promised, turning away to climb the stairs and leave. 

He squeezed himself outside, grabbed his weapon belt and without saying anything else, he walked past the Unsullied and back to the Great Pyramid. If he had paid attention to them, he would have noticed that there was one less than when he had arrived. 

Back in the pyramid, he went straight to his room. Surprised, he noticed that two Soldiers stood in front of it. 

"What's the meaning of this, White Rat?" he asked one of them suspiciously. 

"Order of the Queen," he replied and continued to stare at the wall, expressionlessly. 

Jorah raised one eyebrow, irritated, and opened the door. Exhausted, he dragged himself to his bed and sank down on it. 

“You’re back.” 

Horrified, he looked up. 

Only now did he notice Daenerys who had been sitting in his room all along. 

“Seven hells, why are you shocking me like that?!” he gasped and somehow, his hands started sweating but were cold at the same time. 

Maybe it was because of the Unsullied Dany had commanded to stand in front of the door, maybe it was the look she gave him… or maybe it was the letter she was holding in her hands. 

His Khaleesi stood up, came closer and stopped again, leaving a big gap between them, as if she was afraid, he could attack her. 

“W-what’s the problem, Daenerys?” 

He didn’t want to know the answer… not really… but he already did. 

She didn’t say a word, but only held out the letter. Slowly he took it and as he recognized the unbroken seal, his jaw dropped. 

“I know, that that’s the king’s seal,” Dany said brittlely and when he rose his gaze again, he noticed the red circles around her eyes. 

She had been crying. 

“Say, that it’s not true… I beg you… Tell me that-.” 

She broke up, as her voice cracked. The pleading in it was worse than any outburst he had imagined. 

He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. 

“I… I can explain it.” 

“Read it to me”, she demanded, trying to let her voice sound stronger again. 

“Daenerys, please, just let me-.” 

“Read that goddam letter!” 

Her eyes filled with tears again. 

Reluctantly he broke the seal and unrolled the letter. His eyes flitted across the lines and he had to swallow. 

It was a royal pardon... 

But... it didn't make any sense. For what? Why? 

"It doesn't make sense," he said in a blank voice and stood up. 

"What is the letter?" Dany asked and he felt that she was afraid. 

Of his answer, of what was about to happen ... of him, he didn’t know. 

"A Royal Pardon." 

Her lips started trembling and when she reached out to receive the letter, her hand was shaking. Without resistance, he handed her the pardon and she read it herself. 

“I wanted to tell you, Daenerys, I truly wanted to, b-but I didn’t know-.” 

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed and stumbled back, because he had reached out to take her hand. 

Briefly she held his gaze and shook her head slightly, as if she still couldn't believe it. Then she turned and literally ran to the door to get the Unsullied. 

“No!” Jorah growled, still confused, and grabbed her arm reflexively. 

“Let go of me!” 

She broke out in tears, trying to break free from his grip. 

“Jorah, you’re hurting me!” 

He was shocked to realize how tight his grip was. He released his Khaleesi at once. 

“Wha… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, I- please, Daenerys… I don’t want to lose you! Let me explain…” 

He took an extra step back. 

For a moment she looked as if she wanted to consent but then she only turned away again and headed for the door. 

“I’ve trusted you…” 

“You can still trust me!” he nearly hissed, afraid that if they were too loud, the Unsullied would come in and take him away. 

He stepped in her way, right in front of the door. 

“Daenerys… Please, listen to me!” 

His voice was thick of emotions. 

“I didn’t... I didn’t want to destroy what we had. You and I, we both know it’s special and I… I just didn’t want to lose it… I beg you…” 

He stopped, feeling his tears leaving hot marks on his skin. 

“I don’t want to lose you…” 

His voice broke with the last words. 

“Try to understand me…” 

He was raucous. 

His throat tightened. 

It became harder to breathe. 

But if he gave in now, he would lose her. 

He would lose everything. 

“Please… I am so sorry.” 

“Me too”, she replied wobbly and before Jorah could fully turn around, someone pushed the door open so hard that it struck him in the head with full force. 

He lost his balance and was knocked to the ground. 

Cowering on all fours before his queen, he spat out blood from biting his lip and looked up at her again, pleading. 

The last thing he could remember was her face all smeared with tears and silver streaks. 

Then someone hit him on the head and he passed out.


	22. the trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will hurt a little bit...

Startled, he drew in ice-cold, smelly air when someone poured a bucket of water over his head. He lay on an uneven stone floor. His face was therefore on one side full of dirt. 

Someone had taken off his boots! 

Quickly he tried to pick himself up and looked around in the darkness, apprehensive. 

Where was he? 

He turned and saw a small group of people standing on top of a staircase. They were lit by torches and Jorah recognized Daenerys, Ser Barristan and some Unsullied. He looked around again and after his eyes had adjusted a little to the darkness, he knew where he was. 

In the catacombs. 

Close behind him, the dragons had to be. 

"What are we doing here?", he asked as loud as he could and began to tremble, because the water hadn't been very warm and it was cooler down here than on the streets of Meereen. 

"We are here to punish you with justice for the betrayal of your queen, Ser," Daenerys replied and her voice was even cooler than the air. 

The fact that she addressed him like a knight again hurt... But what else had he expected? 

"And what is that just punishment?", he asked further, as he didn’t quite understand. 

Perhaps the Unsullied had hit him too hard on the head. 

"The dragons will decide your fate first. I suppose I can spare myself a trial then.” 

Jorah looked at his queen in disbelief. 

She was going to burn him? 

He swallowed hard and turned back, where he supposed the dragons to be. 

Everyone knew that death by flame was very painful and long, though others said that dragon fire was so hot, that it melts you immediately so you wouldn’t feel much pain. Well, he was about to find out the truth. 

"Then... let the dragons judge." 

His voice was shaky and his knees were weak. 

It was justice that he should be punished for his treason, he knew that, but he feared for Daenerys. What he had done to her was worse than anything he had ever known. It was even worse than Lynesse's betrayal. 

"Your Grace...should he not at least have a chance to explain himself," he heard Selmy speak. 

"He had enough chances... He didn't take any of them," Dany responded, trying not to let her pain show, coming down the steps to him. 

Jorah just kept standing there, staring straight into nothingness. Daenerys stepped beside him and looked up to him after a few seconds. 

He wasn't sure if she wanted him to look back at her, but at some point, he couldn't take it anymore and met her gaze. He tried to look as neutral as possible, but you could clearly see his fear and his eyes cried for forgiveness. Dany also seemed to be not so sure of her own situation anymore. 

"Daenerys... Think of all we've been through together... Please..." 

"I would have forgiven you if you had told me yourself." 

His heart seized up. 

If that was true... The fortune-teller had been right. 

One sentence could have changed everything. 

He felt his lips trembling slightly, but he felt nothing inside. Nothing but emptiness. His life had once again decided to hit him right in the face for some reason. 

"Remember me... Remember everything I told you. I never lied," he whispered, returning her look until he was sure his words had broken through the wall of stubbornness in her head and heart, then he turned back to the dragons. 

He began to shake even more and came to the crazy thought that in a few seconds he wouldn't be cold anymore after all. 

"Kneel down," she commanded, and he obeyed. 

He clenched his one hand into a fist, with the other one he enclosed the pendant of his necklace. He had made it one evening when he had been bored. He had threaded a peach stone, in which he had “I love you too” in Old Valyrian carved, on a string and hung it around his neck. From then on, he’d never took it off. Not even in the nights. 

He knew it was silly, but this stone reminded him of ... simply everything. 

The knight closed his eyes and held his breath. 

Dany glanced at him for a moment, then turned to the dragons that had already emerged from the darkness and were looking at their mother expectantly. 

"Rhaegal... Viserion..." 

In a moment, it would be over... 

"Dracarys!" 

He crouched down, expecting the flames to engulf him, eating his flesh, making him scream in pain. 

But nothing happened. 

He still had his eyes closed when he felt a rough snout nudge his cheek. Carefully he opened them and saw in Rhaegal’s green and gold speckled eyes. Relieved, he stretched out his hand and patted the dragon's neck. 

Daenerys watched him in disbelief and perhaps with a touch of relief, but no one noticed the last one. 

"The dragons have spoken," said Ser Barristan. 

"Now the queen must pass judgment... Will you forgive Ser Jorah?" 

Jorah looked at his Khaleesi with hope. 

"I will answer that question at his trial," she replied and went to the stairs without even looking back at him. 

Then she left the catacombs with her – now only – knight and the Unsullied. They just left Jorah behind. 

When he realized that, he jumped up. 

"Wait! What... what are you doing? You can't leave me here!" 

No one said a thing. They simply rolled the stone in front of the exit, so now there was complete darkness. 

Dumbfounded, the knight stumbled up the stairs. At the top, he hammered against the stone. 

"Let me out! I know that there are cells in the Great Pyramid! Lock me in them! Let me out!!!" 

No answer. 

Humiliated, he lowered his shoulders and groped back to the dragons. They were his only friends at the moment. 

"I can still be forgiven..." he said to himself and tried to convince himself of it. 

"Daenerys didn't really want you to burn me..." 

It was completely dark and he had to grope his way to Rhaegal. The green dragon had curled up on the ground and now stretched out his head to nudge Jorah again. He groped along the reptile's body and plummeted to the ground. Leaning his back against the dragon, he closed his eyes. 

None of this made any sense! 

He had stopped working for Varys and Robert. 

He hadn't obeyed the last order. 

He hadn't killed Daenerys... 

The thought that he'd actually thought about it was absurd. 

So why did he get a damn pardon now?! 

After a while of brooding, he finally fell asleep. Somehow, he hoped he'd never wake up again.

When Jorah woke up again, he immediately glanced to the exit. 

Someone had rolled the stone away and light fell into the catacombs. Rhaegal was awake, but had not moved from the spot, only raised his head. Five Unsullied stood on the stairs and stared nervous at the dragons. The Soldiers had handcuffs with them which were probably meant for him. 

Jorah stood up slowly and placed one hand on the neck of Rhaegal. 

He could just unchain the dragon, burn the Unsullied and flee. But no. Dany would never forgive him if he did that. 

What were those soldiers doing, though? 

Then he noticed Viserion, who had opened his mouth threateningly and you could already see a little glow inside his mouth. 

He was defending the knight. 

Jorah almost had to grin a little. 

He could just wait until they had fetched Daenerys to calm her children, but he decided differently and went voluntarily to the Unsullied. 

To say goodbye, he stroked the two dragons once more over their snouts. The soldiers grabbed him by the arms and put the chains on him. And so they made their way to the pyramid. 

The small stones on the streets pricked him in the soles of his feet and the sun blinded him terribly after he had been wrapped in darkness for so long. 

Silently they entered the pyramid and walked into the passage leading to the throne room where Dany was holding court. Today was apparently one of those days when all prisoners could try to defend themselves and Daenerys would have to pass sentence. 

Jorah was able to take a quick look into the hall where a man had just been pushed into by some Unsullied, then he was pushed into the cell where all the defendants were sitting and the barred door behind him was slammed shut. 

All who sat in here were sordid men. Most of them looked as if they had stolen a loaf of bread and that's why they had ended up here, but there were these two others by a head taller than he. He looked at them a little closer and remembered a day when Dany had told him that the Unsullied had finally caught the two rapists who had been at large during the last few nights. 

The knight didn't try to draw all the attention to himself and just went into one of the corners of the room. There he sat down on the floor and stared into the distance. 

"What's he looking at?" one of the giants grunted and took a step towards him. 

"Why are you looking like that? You got a problem?" 

Jorah looked up annoyed. 

"I think everybody in here has a problem," he replied dryly. 

"You think you’re smart huh?" said the other one and stepped threateningly beside his friend. 

Jorah smiled. 

" At least I'm smarter than you, but I guess that's nothing you could be proud of." 

All the other prisoners tried to get as far away from them as they could, knowing that there would be a fight in a moment. 

"Stand up and say that to my face again," the first one barked. 

The knight remained sitting there unmoved. 

"I said get up!" 

"I'm not deaf," he replied. 

The two giants looked at each other and then the second one grabbed Jorah by the arm and pulled him onto his legs. The man reached out to punch him, but he ducked under his fist and rammed his knee into his stomach. The giant was still gasping for breath when the knight rammed his elbow between two vertebrae and he finally went down. 

The other giant wanted to pounce on Jorah, but the latter fended off his attack almost bored and punched him in the face with full force, which wasn’t easy, since he was still wearing the handcuffs. In return, the knight didn’t see his opponent's blow coming and for a moment had the feeling that he had been hit with a hammer. 

He spat blood out of his mouth and looked at his opponent hatefully again. 

This man was a threat to Daenerys and the whole city. No one would mourn him. 

With one leap he threw himself on him and they went down. After a short struggle Jorah gained the upper hand and hit the other one without getting tired. 

He let out all his supressed anger on the face of the giant. His fists just started to hurt - especially his still wounded hand - when an Unsullied grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the cell. 

It was Grey Worm. 

The soldier looked at him in dismay. 

"Have you gone mad, Jorah the Andal? You are enough in trouble already!" 

Jorah didn't pay any attention to him, but simply wiped the sweat and blood off his face with his shirt sleeve. 

"Perhaps our queen would forgiven you if you hadn't done that," the Unsullied said. 

"You don’t even believe that yourself! Why are you interested in me at all?!" Jorah rebuked him, because he had just realized how he was making it harder on himself with every passing minute. 

"Because you're a friend of this one... no matter what you did, you had a reason for it. And this one can see how much you... regret it," Grey Worm replied shocking sensitively. 

The knight lowered his eyes. 

He shouldn't snarl at everyone like that. At least not those who wanted to help him. 

"I'm sorry..." 

"Save this excuses for our queen," replied his friend, only to put a hand on his back to lead him into the courtroom. 

As soon as Dany saw him, her eyes widened in horror. Jorah didn’t understand why, but he would have if he had seen himself. 

Handcuffed, barefoot, clothes torn, hair dishevelled and covered in blood, he walked to the stairs that were leading to the elevation where Daenerys had her throne, and then stopped. His lips had cracked and a blue ring had formed around his right eye. Not to mention the dirt that covered his whole body. 

"What happened, Grey Worm?" Dany asked. 

She had never seen Jorah so seedy and you could tell that this made her even more uncomfortable. Had she seen him for the first time, she would probably have thought he was a threat to all his fellow men and it would have been best to just lock him away. But then Jorah returned her horrified look so confused that he no longer looked threatening at all. 

"Jorah the Andal has taken on the two rapists... one is dead, the other injured, he will probably never be able to go again," reported the Unsullied. 

Jorah himself was surprised. 

He must have been really angry… 

“Why?” Daenerys asked irritated. 

“They started!” Jorah interjected before Grey Worm could answer. 

The Khaleesi glared at him coolly and he closed his mouth again. 

“Well, you are not in charge because of that… though we could add it to the list.” 

Silence. 

“So… why did you get this pardon? Explain it to me,” she commanded. 

“I… I-I don’t know. I- I don’t know why,” he stammered. 

Well, he had a hunch but he wasn’t sure if it was true. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“I… I stopped… I stopped years ago.” 

Why he didn't tell her the whole truth, he didn't know. Probably because he was ashamed... ashamed that he'd made such a deal and almost killed her. But maybe he shouldn't keep lying... 

“With what?”, asked Dany and lifted an eyebrow provocatively. 

“You know with what, you read the letter yourself,” he returned, making her narrowing her eyes. 

“When I ask you a question, you will answer it without scrutinising it, you hear?” 

His chest clenched at her harsh words. 

“So… with what?” 

She did this to torture him… it was obvious. And he knew, that he deserved it. 

“I sent letters to Varys.” 

“What was the content of these letters?” 

“Information.” 

“What information?” 

He took an annoyed breath in and out. 

"I've kept him current on you and your brother. Illyrio Mopatis was in on it... which is why you saw me in the palace the day we first met." 

Daenerys was visibly surprised. She hadn’t thought Illyrio had anything to do with this. 

“Information…” She murmured and seemed to realize something. 

“So… so you told the usurper about Rhaego? About… about my and… and Drogo’s son?” 

Jorah looked up in dismay again, meeting her hurt and yet hateful gaze. 

Had he heard her right? Drogo’s son? DROGO’S SON?! Rhaego was HIS son! Not Drogo’s! 

Although that fact didn't actually make it any better... 

“…yes…,” he growled reluctantly. 

He tried to keep his anger at everyone, so he didn’t appear weak, but it turned more and more into despair, fear and sadness. 

Daenerys got up and took a few steps towards him. 

“That wine merchant tried to poison me, because of your information!” 

“I stopped you from drinking his wine!” 

“Because you knew it was poisoned!” 

Tears were shimmering in her eyes. 

“I… I suspected it…” 

She shook her head slightly as if to deny his words. 

She wanted to forgive him. Really. But she couldn’t… 

She had trusted him. 

“You betrayed me… from the first.” 

Her voice cracked. 

And finally… he fell to his knees. 

“Forgive me… I never meant-.” 

He looked up at her again. 

“Please, Khaleesi… Forgive me,” he begged, feeling as if he would choke on the emotions coming up his throat. 

The chains on his wrists rattled and covered his sobbing. 

“You sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and stole my brother’s throne and you want me to forgive you?” 

“I have protected you, fought for you, killed for you!” 

Silence. 

“I have loved you…,” he whispered almost inaudibly and a singly tear ran down his cheek. 

“Love… love, how can you say that to me? You have proven to me that words count for nothing, but only deeds. And your deeds speak for themselves.” 

But hadn’t he proven her his loyalty as well? 

“Any other man I would have executed but you, I do not want you in my city, dead or alive. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you are found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay.” 

He looked at her in disbelief and slowly got up. 

“Daenerys…” 

He wanted to walk up the steps towards her and just touch her, but she pushed his hand away. 

“Don’t ever presume to touch me again or speak my name!” she hissed, fighting back tears but failing. 

“Go!”

He shook his head. 

“No… please…” 

“Now!”


	23. Introduction to the knew Jorah

"My name is Ser Jorah Mormont. I was Lord of Bear Island in Westeros. After I was banished for selling slaves, I met Daenerys Targaryen in Essos and joined her service to spy on her. When she found out about my betrayal, she banished me as well. Now here I am, hoping to take down that child… the so-called queen. With your help. I have important secrets and information about her and her forces that only few people know." 

Jorah's gaze was cold. The rings beneath his eyes had grown darker and darker until he thought at some point it couldn’t get any worse. His wounds from Meereen had all healed, yet his whole body ached. He didn't remember if he had hurt himself out of anger and sadness or if he had fallen down somewhere... maybe he had jumped down somewhere on purpose. 

He just couldn't remember. 

Jorah had tried to drown all his memories in alcohol and almost managed to drink himself to death, but at some point, he had just collapsed and could no longer lift a single cup to his mouth. So, he had hoped he'd never wake up again. 

Well, that wish hadn’t come true either. 

"Information?", King Cleon repeated and put a grape into his mouth. 

"Yes. Information, Your Grace." 

"About Daenerys Targaryen?” 

"That's what I said, yes.” 

For a moment the King of Astapor seemed to have second thoughts. He definitely was a suspicious man. With reason. 

Jorah had decided to seek him out after overhearing two soldiers in Yunkai talking about Cleon joining the yellow city very soon. 

"And why should I trust you? You don't strike me as a man who keeps his word... or whose words can be believed." 

"Your Grace... I wasn't banished for lying to anyone. My word is as good as yours. Besides, if you want to overthrow the Mother of Dragons, you have no choice but to trust me," he claimed. 

His heart should have started beating faster since his plan was not very clever and well thought out. In short, it didn't even make sense. But his way of thinking had changed and the spot where his heart should have been was empty, only filled by coldness. 

His eyes no longer gleamed kind and trusting, let alone loving, they were full of hatred and if he was alone, maybe also a little bit of sadness, but that was mostly covered by his anger towards everyone. 

He was angry at Daenerys for not listening to him, he was angry at Ser Barristan for not helping him with a single word, he was angry at Grey Worm for being so nice when he deserved punishment, he was angry at everyone! But most of all he was angry with himself. 

What an idiot he was... but he could make up for it. He had realized that after hours of looking at a peach. 

He would punish everyone. 

All those who deserved it. 

All those who were bad and twisted. 

All those who might hurt Daenerys. 

He would punish them… with death. 

Daenerys said pretty words didn't count, only deeds. Surely, he would have done enough until the day he died. He could leave this world peacefully… even though Jorah Mormont was not a good man, not any more. Not since he had met Lynesse. Maybe one day he'd take revenge on her, too. 

That thought made him smile. 

"Very well. Say what you have to say," the King asked him and made a dismissive gesture in his direction. 

"Here? Right now? With all those people listening to us. No, I want to talk to you in private, otherwise this won't work out and I'll leave again,” Jorah said furious. 

Of course, that was just an act. 

The butcher king reluctantly returned his gaze and then ordered, “Everyone leave the room. Leave me and the man alone." 

Everyone nodded humbly and hurried out of the room. 

Jorah waited until the giant door had been slammed shut again and slowly walked towards Cleon. He rose, panting, and stood opposite him. Ready to grab his axe, which was hanging from his belt, and hurl it at the knight. 

The man may have been fat, but it was known that he was able to slaughter a pig faster than any other butcher. Jorah was well aware of this. 

"Well?" Cleon asked. 

"I hear you want to join Yunkai," the knight said and turned away to stroll around the room. 

Cleon the Great laughed. 

"Did you hear that in Yunkai?" 

Jorah narrowed his eyes and looked back at the king. 

"So, you're not planning to overthrow Daenerys?" 

"Why should I? She's powerful. She has three dragons." 

None of which she could control. 

"Yea, she is powerful which makes her to a powerful enemy." 

"But an even stronger ally..." Cleon said. 

Jorah turned to him. 

"What do you mean?" 

He couldn't mean what he thought he meant. 

"I think you know what I mean." 

Cleon grabbed another grape from one of the tables. 

"But... you already have two wives," he smiled confusedly and returned to inspect the room. 

"Ha! I think for the Mother of Dragons, I would simply remarry the two of them." 

Cleon watched his every step. 

"So, what is it you wanted to tell me... that's so secret?" 

Jorah briefly put his head out on the balcony to have a closer look and then came back in. 

Cleon eyed him with raised eyebrows. 

On the knight's lips lay a thin smile. 

"I'm not here to kill Daenerys." 

Before the Butcher King could reply, Jorah had drawn his dagger. Cleon gasped for breath, but the blade had already pierced his heart. His eyes grew large and he tried to say something, but he toppled over before. 

Jorah sauntered to the fat man. 

"Valar morghulis." 

He pulled a peach from his pocket and put it in the king's mouth like a pig that was about to be roasted. 

"The world is better off without you." 

One less bad person. 

Suddenly someone knocked at the door. 

"Is everything all right, Your Grace?" 

Ser Jorah had seen this coming and dashed for the balcony. 

He was filled with joy and hatred at the same time. Every breath made him smile more and every step made him breathe faster. 

He jumped over the railing, flew for what felt like an eternity, rowing through the air with his arms, and landed roughly on another house roof. He rolled over and picked himself up again immediately. The roof was made of straw, which was why he didn't dare to walk on it, so he jumped onto the cart that stood under him and from there onto the ground. 

Jorah hurried out of the alley and came to the market place. He quickly mingled with the people and tried to get to the harbour as inconspicuously as possible. 

Within a few hours they would have turned the whole city upside down looking for him. 

"Let them try to catch me..." 

Since he had spoken the Common Tongue when he had introduced himself to Cleon, only Cleon had understood him. So all the others present could not know who he was. 

He already heard a few screams and foot patter of soldiers, but the knight accelerated his steps a bit and reached the harbour without any further problems. 

Jorah peered out from behind a barrel and then went as inconspicuously as possible to the nearest ship. 

"Could you use another man?" he asked friendly and tried to smile… which ended up weirdly. 

"You'll have to ask the captain," replied an older man who was untying one of the ropes. 

The knight snorted. 

"And where can I find him?" 

"Well, that's me," replied the same old man. 

Jorah looked around again, perhaps a bit too conspicuously, as the man added, "So you are on the run? What d’you do?" 

That was none of this old crock’s business! Damn it, couldn't he just let him get on his ship? 

"I killed King Cleon," he replied in that one particular tone of voice from which one couldn’t tell whether it was irony or seriousness. 

For a moment his counterpart just stared at him. Completely expressionless. 

"We can always use good men. However, there may be a small fight with pirates at sea." 

"You had me at the word fight!", Jorah grinned, trying not to exaggerate his good mood, and handed the man two silver coins he had received for his horse from Meereen in Yunkai. One day he would get the money back, whether by force or in secret, he didn’t know yet.

Fish... fish again. 

Well, at least he got something to eat. 

"It's a dull meal, isn't it?" laughed the man next to him nervously. 

It was his first time on an ocean voyage and he was always chatting away at everyone. If you were unlucky, you sat at the same table, if the gods hated you, you sat next to him. Jorah tried to ignore him, but his neighbour just wouldn't stop talking. 

"Seven hells, can't you shut up for at least one second?! Nobody cares what your favourite fruit is!" 

Silence fell all over the lower deck. 

Jorah angrily glared at anyone who stared at him, got up and went to his cabin. 

They were on their way to Velos and just caught in a calm, but the knight would not endure another day with these people. 

Still angry, he slammed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed. 

"What am I doing wrong...?" he whispered and then suddenly jumped up to kick a chair. 

"What am I doing wrong?!" 

He banged with his fists at the door and felt himself shaking. 

He sobbed! 

"Aaahhrr!" 

Again, he hit the door, then slid desperately with his shoulder on the wood on the floor. 

"Why do you hate me?!" 

He buried his face in his hands. 

"Why do the gods hate me...?" 

His eyes fell on his sword. 

He could just end it... 

He could do what Daenerys and no other person could. No one had managed to kill him yet, but now he seemed to destroy himself from the inside. 

Slowly he stood up again. 

It was so easy... 

And why not? 

He picked up the sword belt and pulled the dagger. The blade was well sharpened as usual and he could have cut his throat without any problem. 

Why not? 

"Why not?" 

Why not? 

What else was his life worth? 

Why not? 

He turned the dagger in his hand so that the tip pointed in his direction. 

Why n-? 

That's when he noticed the bloodstain on the handle. It was Cleon's blood... and he realized again why he had to live. 

Daenerys still needed his help. He would have justice done and kill anyone who stood in his way. 

The corners of his mouth twitched. 

Zap! 

He had made the dagger dance over his hand and thrown it at the mirror. The blade had pierced deep into his reflection, his face looking at him with cold, blue eyes. 

He was more unkempt than ever. His hair was again at least ten centimetres long and sticky from sweat and dust, and his beard was just beginning to get a little frizzy. He wouldn't be surprised if a salt crust had already formed over a few strands. 

He took a step towards the glass; it immediately shattered and fell to the ground. 

For some reason he bent down and grabbed one of the shards. He cut himself, but he hardly noticed and the little blood didn't matter. He put the shard into his pouch, the only thing he had left except his sword, a few knives and his clothes. He didn't even have his armour anymore. He had decided to leave it in Meereen because the sight of it only made him angrier. He wondered what Daenerys would do or had already done with it... 

Suddenly the door burst open. 

Without hesitation he pulled his dagger out of the wood and turned to the person who had just come in, ready to throw it. 

It was a stranger who was already rushing towards him, but before he had reached the knight, the blade of the dagger pierced his eye. However, the man was still running. Now screaming. 

Jorah had no time to reach for his sword so he grabbed the attacker by the arm, being careful to avoid the sword he was wielding, and rammed his knee into his belly. Then he pulled his dagger out of the eye and stuck it between the man's ribs. 

He fell on the floor, finally dead. 

Panting, Jorah looked at him and grabbed his sword. He stormed out of his cabin and onto the deck. 

He had expected to find fighters defending the ship against the pirates, but instead he saw frightened men, hands raised humbly, kneeling before several strangers. Unbelieving, he opened his mouth, but didn’t know what he wanted to say. 

"Surrender and you will be spared," said a tall man with shoulder-length blue hair and an eye patch, expressionlessly. 

The knight returned the man’s gaze, shocked. 

He knew the pirate... but it wasn’t possible. 

"What is it, Connington? Not drowning in alcohol after all? Instead, a pirate..." 

He took another step towards him. 

"...I would rather have drunk myself to death." 

Jon Connington seemed surprised that Jorah knew his name. 

"I am Griff." 

"Oh... right. Every pirate has a nickname... well, that's tempting", he did not know why he was mocking Jon when he was probably about to die. 

"Who are you who dares to laugh at my father?!", a boy's voice sounded from the wheel. 

As Jorah turned to him and looked into his eyes, his breath faltered. 

He had her eyes. 

He had Dany's eyes! 

No... no, that couldn’t be. Daenerys was the last of the dragon's blood. 

Confused, he turned to Jon. 

It was simply impossible. Aegon Targaryen was killed as an infant. And yet here he stood on this very ship. 

Jorah was still so shocked that he hadn't noticed the man sneaking up behind him who now jumped into his back with full force. 

His mouth open in a silent scream, he rolled away. 

His spine felt like it was split in two or at least like one vertebra had broken. As he wanted to stand up again, someone kicked him in the ribs. Gasping for air, he tried to get out of reach of those boots. 

He had to look miserable. 

"That's enough," he heard Connington shouting. 

"He is a danger to us, Father!" the boy replied. 

Jorah could only avoid the next kick by rolling away. He laboriously pulled himself back on his legs at the railing and grabbed the sword that lay before his feet. If he had to, he would fight to his death. But suddenly other men stood before him and seemed to have the same thought. 

"Give up, Ser!" Jon demanded and stepped closer to him. 

"You can't kill us all. You will strive." 

Jorah hesitated briefly and that was his mistake. 

The pirates fell upon him at once, knocking him to the ground again. Desperately he tried to free himself from the mass of people, flailing his sword, arms and legs, but suddenly he heard a thud... someone had hit him on the head! 

He realized he was getting weaker... and finally he fell unconscious.


	24. Jon Connington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning at the beginning: Idk what I thought while writing this chapter xD It's gonna be a lil crazyyyyyy...

"How did you know that I’m Jon Connington?" 

Light! So bright! 

"I thought you were Griff," he murmured, trying to turn his head away from the light. 

He was tied to a post and could hardly move. Either because the ropes made it impossible or because of all his injuries.

"How did you know who I am?" 

Jon Connington had sat down in front of him on an overturned bucket and held a torch in his hand. So that was the bright light… 

"I've seen you several times before...", Jorah growled somewhat annoyed. 

"And who are you?" 

"You wouldn't believe me anyway," he replied to Jon's question. 

"He is Jorah Mormont. Former Lord of Bear Island. Former spy of Varys. Former fiancé of Daenerys Targaryen," it came from some corner of the cell. 

What?! 

H-How could anyone know that but Daenerys and him?! 

And how did that third person even know who he was?! 

"Fiancé?", the former Lord of the Griffin's Roost snorted and nearly dropped the torch on his prisoner. 

"Tyrion, you cannot seriously claim that the breaker of the chains wanted to marry a slaver." 

"He was also spying on her," added a third voice. 

Varys. 

Jorah narrowed his eyes. 

They would regret this. All of it. 

Suddenly his anger turned to scorn and he almost had to laugh at the others' mockery. For soon, all that would adorn them was a red smile at their throat. 

He only had to free himself… somehow. 

"Thank you all for reminding me. I almost forgot again", he said dryly and looked around, as his eyes had finally got used to the light. 

They were probably below deck in a cell of the pirate ship. The floor was covered with some straw and, surprisingly, he saw his bag and his sword belt suspended from a hook in front of the bars. If he could get to them, most of his problems would be solved. 

Well, at least he could sneak on deck unobtrusively, let the dinghy into the water and row away with it. Though it probably wouldn't be that easy. But he would do it! 

"Well, what are you going to do with me, Connington? Sell me? It would be ironic, wouldn't it, if you sold me? Me, the famous slave trader of Westeros." 

"So, you're proud to have sold men?" Jon asked without answering his actual question. 

"Of course, who wouldn't be...” The irony in the knight's voice was distinct... or so he thought. Apparently, he always sounded like this, lately. 

"You haven't answered my question, Connington..." 

"We'll sell some of the prisoners and keep some as slaves ourselves," Jon finally replied. 

Jorah laughed. 

"Ha! Just a moment ago you cursed me for slave trading and now you want to do it yourself? Don't you know that Queen Daenerys has forbidden the slave trade in Slaver’s Bay?" 

"Well, we're nowhere near the queen, Ser," replied Varys in his buttery, slimy voice. 

Oh, he hated that eunuch- 

"Why? Where are we?" 

"On our way to Volantis where slaves are wanted for the fighting pits. I think you'd be pretty good at it." 

Pit fighter… 

Tyrion cleared his throat. 

"Why are we telling him these things?" 

"Because then he'll be obligated to answer some questions as well," Jon said. 

"Oh, he's obligated, well, then..." 

"Look, half man, we could also torture him, but then his price will drop and besides, I'm not even sure that's going to help in his case at all." 

Connington was right about that. 

Jorah had to grin again. 

"You know what I think? I think you're too soft to torture anyone." 

"I wouldn't see that as a bad thing...", Tyrion murmured, but Griff only returned his gloomy look. 

"I don't torture people for fun." 

"Of course… What is it you all want from me then? Why are so many here? It's not like I'm famous... Besides... Connington, why did you, ask me who I am when Varys and the Imp knew already? You didn't have to ask me." 

At last! He could think again! 

He'd felt something was wrong here all along... good that he'd delayed this whole conversation. Otherwise he might have said some stupid things. 

Connington looked at Varys, who nodded. 

"You're a dangerous man, Ser. Not because you're good at fighting... Many are. It's because of your knowledge. You know more about Daenerys Targaryen than anyone else. It would have been better if she had killed you- for her sake, at least." 

"And it was better for you to kill me, too, Connington," Jorah said, with a smile playing over his lips. 

He lowered his voice. 

“For I know your secret. I know about Aegon." 

Jon clenched his teeth, trying to control himself. He probably wanted to kill the knight right away. 

"How did you recognize him?" Tyrion asked and Jorah looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

"Isn't it obvious?" 

Had his hands not been tied, he would have thrown them in the air and dropped them on his legs. The fact that he was so limited suddenly upset him and he began to jiggle the post. 

"Untie me." 

He wouldn't answer them one more question tied up. 

"Untie me, damn it!" he shouted and heard wood cracking. 

He kept banging with his back against the post, laughing at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but to laugh even harder when he saw the distraught faces of Connington, the Spider and the dwarf. 

"Daenerys Targaryen was in love with this man," Griff's voice echoed somewhere in the back of his head. 

"No… no, she loved the man he used to be. Obviously, there's not much of him left." 

When he heard Tyrion's words, he stopped abruptly and looked at the Imp with big eyes. He returned his gaze unmoved. 

"She doesn't love me anymore... but she needs me! She needs me! Do you understand that?! She needs me! She needs me!" 

He collapsed. 

"She doesn’t love me..." 

It was as if he had just found out about it. 

"She hates me! She tried to kill me! She tried to kill me! To kill me! ME!" 

He almost cried, only there were no tears. 

"She wanted to kill me... but she needs me. I can help her." 

Varys got up and left the cell. 

"I won't listen to this madness any longer. The man's gone crazy. There's nothing we can do for him." 

Jon also got up and turned to leave. 

"You coming, Tyrion?" 

The dwarf glanced at him for a moment, then turned back to the knight. 

"I'll stay a little while longer… and, yes.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I'll be quite comfortable on my own." 

Griff nodded and disappeared from Jorah's sight. 

"So, you… worship Daenerys Targaryen?” 

Jorah didn't know what to say to that. 

Was the answer not obvious? 

Was this a trick of the dwarf? 

"Yes," he replied low, eyeing him with a look of anxiety. 

What was this about? 

Tyrion looked over his shoulder once more, then bent over to the knight. 

"You know... maybe you still have a chance with Daenerys... if there's any way you can prove your loyalty." 

He glanced back at the dwarf sceptically. 

"What do you think I've been trying to do all this time?" 

"To get her attention." 

He opened his mouth to contradict him, but he was right. Actually, he was just trying to get her attention with his actions. 

"Then what should I do?" he asked hesitantly. 

"You should bring her a gift. Could be an object, a secret or even a person, as long as it has a certain value that you cannot pay with gold," Tyrion explained and raised his eyebrows promisingly. 

But Jorah didn't know what he was getting at. 

"And... what exactly are you thinking about?" 

The Imp sighed as if it was obvious. 

"If you come with us and announce the arrival of Aegon Targaryen to Daenerys, then that would surely be gift enough." 

He was right! He only needed to join Connington. But... wouldn't Daenerys rather harm the existence of the young Griffin? He had the greater right to the throne... 

Was this just a trick of Tyrion to tame the bear? 

Yes. Yes, it had to be. 

That filthy bastard! 

If Jorah hadn't been tied up, he'd have thrown himself on him with a rage scream, but he had no choice but to smile. 

"Thanks, I'll think about it."

It was obvious that Jon Connington needed him to gain Dany's trust. She didn't know anyone on this ship and if they would just anchor in Meereen, go to her and explain that this was Aegon Targaryen, she wouldn't believe a word they said and in the worst case she would feed them to the dragons. 

It might be different with Jorah. But then again, maybe not. After all, he betrayed her and she would probably never trust him again. So maybe it would be pretty stupid to sail to Meereen with him. 

In any case, it's been known for a while now that Tyrion didn't propose it because he liked him so much. It was for their own gain, even if he didn't know what they wanted him to do. But the dwarf was right. Maybe he could regain Dany's trust if he could give her something that gold could not buy. 

Well, as long as he was trapped on this ship, he'd just play along. 

"Lord Connington..." 

Surprised that Jorah had addressed him with that title, he turned to him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. The torchlight below deck strongly raised the rings of the knight's eyes, who was leaning against a post, and made his eyes shine in remorse. 

"I will join you. I don't know what else to do, and it would only be to our mutual advantage." 

Jon hesitated before answering. 

"I will discuss this with the others... Don't get your hopes up." 

The exiled nodded slightly and a spark of gratitude was hiding in his narrow smile. But as soon as Connington was gone and he was alone again, his face turned into a grimace of gloating joy. 

Those idiots! 

Connington would confer with Varys, Tyrion and perhaps his chief officer - if there was one here. Surely, they would all be sceptical about his offer, but in the end, they would decide that he could not harm them as long as they looked after him and he could only be of use. The only person who might object was young Griff. Aegon Targaryen. 

At the thought of that boy, the smile on his face disappeared. 

Aegon was dangerous because he had a greater claim to the Iron Throne than Daenerys. And the argument they'd always relied on would be undone by this green boy. Without the claim, Daenerys would have no support of the houses and could never rule while her nephew was out there somewhere. 

He had to kill the boy. 

And preferably everyone else on this ship as well. 

"I offer my services Lord Connington. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." 

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise." 

Jorah rose. 

One oath or another, it didn't matter. 

He stood on the Shy Maid in sunlight for the first time since days if not weeks. His eyes darted to Young Griff. They hated each other, but Jorah could hide his feelings completely, whereas Aegon Targaryen failed miserably. 

"I want us on a course towards Meereen today. My bride awaits me." 

Jorah had been careful to keep his features as neutral as possible, but at Young Griff's words, his jaw dropped and the horror was reflected in his eyes. It had all lasted no more than a second, but it had seemed like an eternity to him. 

This... this boy wanted to marry Daenerys?! 

Wasn't she... his aunt? 

What...? 

Why...? 

Of course, an alliance between the two would be strategically astute. Aegon had the claim and friends in Westeros - thanks to Connington and Varys - and Daenerys had her dragons and an army. They would be invincible... but he couldn't let that happen. 

Daenerys was his! His alone! And if he couldn't have her, then no one should. 

Jorah tore himself out of his thoughts. 

Seven hells, what was wrong with him? 

What had become of him? 

Damn him, he was crazy! 

This realization hit him so hard that he almost collapsed screaming on the floor, but he remembered that he was surrounded by other people whose trust he had to win. 

He had to pull himself together... for Daenerys.


	25. Stone Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've just realized (when I translated this chap to be exact) that the Shy Maid (Jon's ship) doesn't get attacked in the Smoking Sea but the Sorrows. And... the Sorrows is the inly part in Essos where stone men are common... but since I thought I could trust the show they live also in the Ruins of old Valyria/Smoking Sea now xD

Jorah yawned extensively and opened his eyes. 

He was in his cell. 

But it was open and he was not tied up. He could go anywhere on the ship, but he could not carry weapons. 

Tired, he got up on deck and looked into the rising sun. Today they would spend the last day among the ruins of Valyria. The Smoking Sea had unsettled him all the time and the ruins on land, already overgrown with all kinds of plants, supported the eerie fog. 

They had been forced to take this way because Aegon was in a hurry. Jorah was so happy that they would soon leave all this behind. 

"Up already?", sounded the voice of Young Griff behind him. 

He had probably wanted to frighten him, but his footsteps had been heard loud on the planks in this unbearable silence so the knight turned to the boy in a relaxed manner. 

"Do I look like I'm still asleep?" His words should have trickled with hatred, but he could control his voice well enough. 

However, his fists clenched. 

"Don't you have classes?" 

Aegon was taught a variety of subjects by an old master of the Citadel and Jon every day. 

"It's too early..." the boy replied and stood beside him at the railing. 

"Tell me about my aunt, Ser... what's she like?" 

Aegon had his eyes on the water below but Jorah knew they gleamed spitefully. He wanted to grab him and throw him into the water, but instead he just swallowed his anger and looked at the water, too. 

"Well... Daenerys is..." 

What? What was she? 

Beautiful. 

Very fair. 

Clever. 

Far too young for all of this. 

Strong. 

"She is like your father." 

Aegon looked at him confused and obviously had to face the thought that he was probably going to marry a woman who was just like his father. Well, when you put it like that, it did sound a bit odd. Well, she was his Aunt... 

"She's a warrior?" 

"Not in battles fought with swords." 

The boat was coming closer and closer to the shore. In front of them appeared a kind of giant gate, carved through a gigantic rock, so that the ship could sail through. It was probably one of the few works of the Valyrians that had survived. 

The two men standing on deck watched with wide eyes as the current brought them ever closer to the gate. 

Suddenly something splashed into the water and they jerked together, frightened. 

"What was that?!" squealed Young Griff and Jorah almost laughed scornfully at the sight of the other. 

But as he himself was also quite insecure, he didn’t. 

"I... don't know. Fetch Jon! Tell him..." 

Splash! 

Again, something had fallen into the water and this time, Jorah had seen it before it broke through the water and disappeared. It had looked like a rock except that it had been unusually shaped. Then the realization hit him. 

Stone men! 

"Damn it," he gasped and backed away from the railing. 

"Where are the weapons?! I need a sword!" 

"What's the matter?"

Jon had come on deck and looked around with his sabre drawn. 

"Stone men!" the knight replied and grabbed one of the oars that were lying around. 

Connington understood without further explanation and ran to a bell to ring it. Immediately some sleepy men came from the lower deck and looked around in confusion. 

"We are being attacked by stone men! Get weapons and prepare to fight!" 

Confusion broke out as Griff made his way to Young Griff. 

Jorah, the only one who was at least a little armed, dared to take a look over the railing and immediately retreated when a hand shot out of the water and held on to a rope hanging in it. 

"Shit!" 

Meanwhile it splashed into the water from everywhere and the Shy Maiden and the ships that followed began to rock slightly as more and more stone men somehow pulled themselves onto the decks. 

And then the first hand appeared. 

Rapidly the knight struck at it with the end of the oar, but the monster was much faster than a normal human and was already pulling itself over the railing. Horrified, he stabbed at the chest of the stone man, and he immediately tipped back into the water. 

The whole crew was back again, each man with a weapon in his hand, ready to fight. 

Someone tapped Jorah on the arm and he turned around, ready to stab that someone. But it was only Tyrion. 

"I think you need a sword." 

The Imp held up his sword belt with all the knives attached to it. Gratefully, the knight grabbed his belt and put it around his waist. He felt much safer with the sword in his hand. 

And there they came. 

Like a wave they fell onto the ship from all sides. They jumped from the rock under which they were sailing, pulled themselves out of the water or simply appeared out of nowhere. Screaming had broken out and everyone tried to push the attackers back into the water before they could get touched. 

Jorah had only ever had one stone man as his opponent before, but suddenly he found himself facing two. 

Damn it! 

He drew one of his knives and threw it at one of them, turned to the other and after a short struggle he thrust the sword into his stomach. He looked around as there were loud screams when the Septa and two other women came out of their cabins. 

In an instant Jon and Aegon were at their side, fighting the stone men who were about to pounce on them. Varys and Tyrion were also close by. 

This was his chance. 

He killed one of the monsters when it got in his way and continued his sprint to Griff. 

"Ser Jorah! Lord Varys is gone! Find him and bring him back here," he roared and stopped one of the stone men from jumping on Young Griff. 

Perfect. 

The knight looked around with narrowed eyes. And there he discovered the spider. He was cowering behind a barrel, in front of all three attackers. 

He dashed to Varys, careful not to slip on the bloodied planks. 

"Ser Jorah!" cried out the eunuch in relief when he saw him come sledding toward him. 

The exiled pushed a dagger through the head of the first stone man, kicked the chest of the second so that the latter flew over half the deck and fell into the water, and the third was killed with his sword. He wiped his sticky hairs from his face and hurried to Varys, seemingly concerned. 

"Are you all right? Have you been touched?" 

"No. No. Everything is fine", the spider murmured and grabbed the knight's outstretched hand to pull himself up on his feet. 

That was it. 

Jorah plunged his sword into the eunuch's belly. The smile on his lips widened as the pitiful thing collapsed in front of him and began to spit blood. 

"Did you really think I had forgot what you did? What you used me for?" he growled in hatred and satisfaction. 

How long he had longed for this moment… And finally... finally he had been able to kill the bastard. 

"Valar morghulis..." 

Varys wanted to say something, but the last breath of life had left him before he could do it. 

Scornfully, Jorah turned away from him. 

An intoxicating feeling ran through his entire body... and that was when he noticed Tyrion. 

The dwarf had watched the whole event wordlessly and now he coldly returned the knight’s look. And the knight knew he had to catch the Imp before he could reach Connington. 

Jorah started running and at the same moment, Tyrion started running as well. Only a few more feet and he would have reached the Griff. But the exiled was faster. 

He jumped and pushed the dwarf to the ground. 

"Help!" 

He punched him in the face to shut him up, but he just kept screaming. 

"Jon!" 

Connington turned to them. 

He looked surprised at first, then he got angry. The hatred in his eyes was unmistakable and Jorah realized the stone men were the lesser of two evils. He quickly grabbed Tyrion and threw him into the water. His scream was choked by the water and Jorah took one last look over his shoulder before he jumped in after him. 

Jon Connington and Aegon Targaryen would die today. They didn't stand a chance against all the stone men. There were still more of them climbing onto the ship. 

Splash! 

The icy cold water enclosed his whole body and he opened his eyes to look for Tyrion. 

Where was he? 

In panic, Jorah turned around and realized that he was running out of oxygen. Then he noticed something. From the depths of the Smoking Sea, tiny bubbles of air rose up. 

That had to be him. 

The knight dived briefly above the surface, took a deep breath and dived down again. The bubbles became fewer with each time he bent his legs. Then he saw the lifeless body and understood why he was sinking. 

A stone man had clung to his foot. But the monster was already unconscious, at least that's what Jorah thought when he kicked his foot against the hand of the monster to free the dwarf. 

It wouldn’t let go. 

Slowly the urge to breathe came over him again. 

He dived a little deeper, pulled a dagger and then stretched out his arms to finally get rid of the stone man. Suddenly he opened his eyes and grabbed the knight's forearm. He cried out in shock and lost even more oxygen. 

Damn it! 

Paralysed by fear, he broke free, grabbed Tyrion and tried to swim faster than the stone man. He got more and more dizzy and didn't know which way was up and which way was down. He tried to keep his eyes open, searching for light, but everything around him was dark. 

The Smoking Sea had swallowed them.

"Tyrion!" 

He choked as he vomited and coughed so hard the salt water finally drained from his lungs. 

"Tyrion!" 

Jorah knelt in sand and with one hand shook the lifeless body beside him. 

"Wake up!" 

All this couldn’t have been in vain! 

He needed the dwarf as a gift for Daenerys! He was invaluable! He was a Lannister! 

Suddenly, the dwarf spat out a gush of water and turned aside. Jorah laughed in relief and sat down beside him in the sand. 

"I thought you were dead..." 

"I'd rather be," he growled in a hoarse voice. 

The knight looked at him with a penetrating look. 

"You blame me for killing Varys?" 

"Of course! He was my friend!" 

"The spider has no friends! He was unfaithful and always acted for his own good," he replied with a gloating laugh, remembering with relish how he had stabbed his sword into the eunuch's flesh. 

He would never forget that moment. Neither would he forget the look on Cleon's face when the knife plunged into his chest, or Connington's, as he stormed after him and was stopped by stone men. 

The knight turned to Tyrion again. 

"Did they touch you?" 

The dwarf looked down and shook his head. 

"You?" 

Jorah felt a tingling in his left forearm and lied without hesitation, saying, "No. I'm all right." 

He had to turn away from the imp who eyed him with a critical gaze. He probably knew perfectly well that he wasn't telling the truth. 

"I... am going to look for firewood. Get some rest." 

"The best idea you've had in a long time," said the Imp, but he didn't complain. 

The knight gave him one last annoyed look and left. 

After he was sure that Tyrion wasn't watching him anymore, he pulled back his shirt sleeve and looked at the infection not too surprised. It was only a small part of his skin and yet he already noticed how the disease settled in his body and stiffened his muscles. He couldn't say when he would die from it or when he would lose control of himself, but one thing was certain. 

One day, in near future he would become a stone man.

"How can you live on berries and roots only?" nagged Tyrion and swallowed disgustedly one of the berries Jorah had given him. 

"How can you complain all the time?" he replied while washing his face, in dipping his hands in the stream in front of him and then letting the water trickle over him. 

The dwarf sat with a grim expression on a tree trunk near him. 

"Oh, you know, with you as travelling companion, it's not that hard..." 

"I am not your travelling companion!" 

"Oh, and what do you call it then when two people are traveling together?" 

"I am your captor." 

The dwarf snorted and changed the subject. 

"What about those fishing villages we were supposed to find up the coast?" 

"Do you ever shut up?" 

There was a moment's silence, and the knight dared to hope that for the next few minutes. 

"I sailed to Pentos in a crate without saying a word." 

Jorah looked at him astonished. 

He definitely hadn’t expected that. 

"Why?" 

The dwarf looked up from the berries in his hand. 

"You're only asking that now? Just now you're wondering why I was in the middle of nowhere with Aegon Targaryen?" 

"Answer my question." 

He looked at the berries again with that grim look. 

"I had to flee because I killed my father. He wanted to frame me for a crime I didn't commit... And he fucked the woman I loved." 

Jorah had expected anything… but not this. 

How could he possibly answer that? 

Fortunately, he was spared that question because the other one kept talking. 

"YOU may have lost your mind, Mormont, but at least your father was an honourable man..." 

He had not lost his mind! 

"What do you know about my father?" 

He took one last look at his emaciated face in the water that was staring back at him and then turned to his prisoner with his eyebrows raised. 

"I know that he was an honest man. I know he took his duty as commander of the Night's Watch to heart... He was a good man...” 

Tyrion paused. 

"He shouldn't have died the way he did." 

It took a moment until the meaning of these words had reached Jorah. 

He looked at his counterpart in shock. And now the dwarf's features were also somewhat shocked. 

"You... you didn't know?" 

The knight swallowed, trying not to let it get to him. 

He hadn't been on very good terms with his father, not after he brought Lynesse along. And yet, Jeor Mormont had been his father... he had taught him how to hunt and had given him Bear Island. Jorah had never had a chance to tell him how sorry he was that he had disappointed him so terribly. 

"How?", his half-embroidered voice sounded. 

Tyrion reluctantly pressed his lips together. 

"I only heard second hand..." 

"How?!", the exiled interrupted him angrily and took a step closer. 

"A mutiny behind the wall. He was killed by his own men," the Imp explained dejectedly and couldn’t look the knight in the eye. 

Jorah opened his mouth… 

He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. 

Murdered... by those he trusted. Wasn't there a certain irony in that? 

Betrayed by his own son, murdered by his own brothers. Why were the gods so unjust? What had Jeor Mormont done to them? 

"We should move on," he decided in a hoarse voice, ignoring the pain.

"So? How is it that you fell in love with Daenerys and were even foolish enough to propose to her when you were actually spying on her?" Tyrion asked, obviously bored. 

"Careful, Imp, you may be of great value, but that won't stop me from smacking you," Jorah growled and turned to him briefly before he went on. 

"That wasn't meant condescendingly," the dwarf claimed. 

"I'm just interested..." 

The knight twisted his eyes and cursed his contracting heart when he thought of Daenerys. 

He had to be strong. For her and for himself. 

If he gave her Tyrion, he was sure she'd forgive him... and if she didn't? Whatever. She'd forgive him for sure. 

"She was afraid... I was the only one who was there for her and protected her. She needed me. She still needs me. She'll trust the wrong people and they'll be her downfall," he finally managed to say. 

"I hope we make it to Meereen in time... We just have to!" 

"And how? It will probably take months on foot!", Tyrion complained and waddled a bit faster to walk on the same level as him. 

"Besides, I wonder what makes you think she'll forgive you. Do you think she still loves you? Do you think I'm enough to wash away your sins?" 

"She just has to forgive me...!" 

"Or else what? You'll kill her?" Tyrion had him so enraged, he didn't think about his next words. 

"No! Me!" 

The Imp's eyes widened in shock and he stopped. 

The exiled just kept walking. 

He would follow. 

"Are you serious, Mormont?" 

"Yes... I would sacrifice myself so that at least my death might have meaning." 

They were walking along a cliff, and the wind was blowing through his hair. When he wiped it off his face to be able to see again, he spotted a ship anchored in the bay in front of them. 

"Damn it," he muttered, dragging his prisoner with him and ducked behind one of the rocks. 

"What is it?", Tyrion asked in surprise and tried to tear himself from his grip. 

"A slave ship..." 

"What are they doing in the middle of nowhere?" 

"Probably filling their water-“ 

"-supplies. Exactly," a stretched-out voice with a thick Valyrian accent sounded. 

Jorah closed his eyes, cursing himself and the whole world. Then he reached for his dagger and threw it at the first slave trader who approached them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw I also realized that Jorah is a little bit like Sirius (Black... from Harry Potter) after he escaped Azkaban. You know what I mean? Lil crazy and obsessed...


	26. flogged and sold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is getting better again yeyyyy

"Nah, you're tough!" 

Bam! 

Again, Jorah's head banged on the gravel of the beach and he fought to straighten up. Each time he became more and more dizzy and thought he wouldn't last much longer. 

"You cannot break a man who’s already broken," he spat, choking on his own blood. 

Somehow it amused him ... They could do with him whatever they wanted to and he could just accept it. 

Bam! 

He wanted to vomit, but he had eaten so little in the last few days that nothing could make his stomach give up the little it had. 

Tyrion knelt beside him and just watched, even if it didn't seem like he enjoyed watching his captor get beaten up. They hadn't even slapped the dwarf… probably because he hadn't fought back... not like the knight. 

He had killed three of the pirates, wounded one badly and he could have done many more like that if he hadn't been so weakened. 

Bam! 

This time he stayed down... and started laughing. 

Those idiots just didn't understand. 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" asked the slaver, who was also the leader of the whole thing and had been punishing him for what felt like hours.

"Shall I go on?" 

He shoved his boot into the knight's stomach who gasped for breath but still couldn't stop laughing. 

"Take him to the ship and tie him to the mast... I'll get a whip," he ordered his comrades and got into one of the rowing boats they had taken to the beach. 

Two pirates grabbed the knight and dragged him to the other. Tyrion was pushed after them. 

On the boat he finally lost consciousness... but it didn't last long. Shocked, he opened his eyes after someone had poured a bucket of cold salt water in his face. 

"Ten lashes for your resistance, bastard... next time that happens, it'll be twenty," sounded the voice behind him, which he hated more than anything else. 

Someone ripped open his golden shirt and right after that... Bang! 

Jorah hadn’t been able to prepare for the pain and tears started filling his eyes. 

Yet he made no sound. 

He would not do them that favour. 

With teeth clenched and eyes closed he waited for the next blow. 

Bang! 

Blood began to run down his back. 

Bang! 

It became more. 

Bang! 

He bared his teeth. 

Bang! 

The pain continued, but didn't get any worse. 

Bang! 

His whole back was burning. 

Bang! 

His skin was already hanging down on him in shreds, but he knew it could be much worse. 

Bang! 

He felt nothing more. 

Bang! 

His knees gave way and he slipped down a few centimetres, still tied to the mast. 

Bang! 

He tore his eyes open so as not to pass out again and stared into the horrified face of Tyrion Lannister standing at the railing, guarded by two pirates. If he hadn't miscounted, that was ten lashes already. 

It was over... 

Even though he thought nothing more could harm him, he had to admit that flogging was no fun. 

Suddenly he thought of Daenerys again... and he realised what a terrible man he was. He realised once again how badly he had betrayed her and that he deserved much more than just banishment and a few lashes. 

"Continue...", he heard himself say in a broken voice. 

The slaver was obviously surprised. 

"What?" 

Jorah became angry, growled, "Are you all deaf? I told you to go on, goddammit!"

Tyrion had saved him... 

The pirate with the whip had already given him at least ten more lashes, when the dwarf raised his voice and claimed that the knight would make an excellent pit fighter and that he would surely get good money for him. This had made the traders think and they had come to the conclusion that the dwarf was right. 

Now the knight stood on this small wooden stage and stared into the glaring sun. In front of him were gathered about twenty men who wanted to buy the slaves that were for sale. 

The pirate and captain stood at the very front at the edge of the stage and told the most diverse stories about the slaves. He was just about to claim how well suited this tall fellow from the Seven Kingdoms would be as a pit fighter. How he had slain the great Khal Drogo, how he had been the first knight to jump through the breach of Pyke with his burning sword. 

Only when Tyrion pushed Jorah into the side did he realise that he was the one they had been talking about. 

The fact that none of this was true and yet everyone believed it made him smile. 

Those naive cunts. 

"The commandment begins with ten gold coins!" 

"Twelve," one of the men immediately shouted, but was interrupted by another: "Thirteen!" 

"Fourteen!" 

"Twenty!", threw in a third bored voice and Jorah turned his gaze towards the skinny man. 

He didn't look as if he was starving, and yet he obviously ate only as much as was necessary. He had a deceitful face and seemed to have it in for the knight. 

"Sold," grinned the slaver, when no one seemed to make a higher offer, accepted the bag of coins and pushed the knight in front of him a little to make him move. 

Slowly the exiled stomped down the steps to his new owner and took a last look at the slaver to memorize his face. If he ever met him again, he would be dead... and then he returned Tyrion's panicked look. 

The dwarf didn't like him, but he would certainly not survive on his own. 

"Wait," cried the imp and wanted to run after them, but the chains with which he was held prevented it. 

"You must buy me too!" 

The skinny man gave him a disparaging look. 

"Why should I?" 

"I need him to fight... the dwarf brings me luck...", Jorah lied, as he too did not want to be separated from the other one. 

Well, that was pretty much the biggest lie he had ever made up, since Tyrion had always meant the opposite of luck to him until now, but if the people here believed he had killed Drogo, they would probably believe this too. 

Once again Tyrion was patterned by the skinny man and then he flicked a single gold coin at the trader. 

"I take him..." 

The pirate, who was visibly happy to get rid of Tyrion at all, nodded and then let the gnome go. Relieved, the knight breathed out and then followed his owner. 

"Where are you taking us," he asked and rubbed his wrists, which were already quite scraped by the chains. 

"The first fight is near Meereen ... you two have to get through it first, then we'll talk further.” 

Meereen... he was getting closer and closer to his destination. Though not quite on the path he had imagined.

"What happened to your back," asked Yezzan zo Qaggaz the man who had bought him, surprised. 

"I was flogged..." he muttered in reply and stared at the full bowl of soup in front of him. 

Tyrion sat opposite him and couldn't get enough of that soup. 

"What were you-? Never mind... can you still fight?", Yezzan questioned and sat down next to him. 

Jorah gave him a blaming look. 

"Of course!" 

The man cared surprisingly much about his arena fighters. No one said slaves here because slavery was forbidden where they were sailing to. 

They all did this voluntarily. Everyone knew that. 

The knight still wore his torn shirt and refused to accept it every time someone offered to get him a new one. He had a bond with this shirt somehow. He wouldn't just give it away. 

Besides, everyone would see that he had greyscale when he took it off. The disease had spread further, but not as fast as expected. Fortunately. 

"You still want that?" 

Tyrion tore him out of his thoughts, pointing at the bowl in front of him. 

He shook his head and pushed it towards the dwarf. 

He had no appetite. 

"You have to eat," said his owner indignantly and was about to get up to get another bowl of soup. 

"But I'm not hungry", Jorah claimed, got up and went without another word below deck, where the hammocks of all the fighters hung. 

He couldn't lie on his back, so he usually slept quite awkwardly on his stomach or just sat there. 

He wondered what Daenerys was doing right now. 

Would he really see her again? He just had to. 

After what felt like hours, a man he didn't know came to him and told him to at least have his back treated if he wasn't eating. Reluctantly, the knight allowed his wounds to be washed out and covered with some kind of paste that smelled pretty disgusting.

A few days passed and he could move again without his back burning like hell and after a day or two more the wounds were almost completely healed or at least no longer open... he would probably have the scars forever.

Today was the day. 

His first pit fight. 

All the men around him would die. 

He would kill them all. 

He had to kill them. 

"So... whoever wins today will fight in the great pit of Daznak in Meereen. On the day of the queen's wedding. The fights are traditional..." 

What?! 

Jorah stopped listening to Yezzan. 

Did he just say wedding? The queen’s? 

That was Daenerys... and marriage... She would... No. 

No! 

She couldn't do that! 

That was... impossible! 

She would never... What? Cheat on him? Betray him? 

He had done it himself... it was his fault. 

He collapsed to the ground. Kneeling in the dust, he wanted to pull the blade of the sword he was holding in his hand through his throat. He was shaking, even though he didn’t know why. 

He tried to get up again, but his hand buckled under his weight and he just kept laying in the dirt. 

Yezzan had already sent over half the men into the pit for the first round, seemingly satisfied with the number, so the knight caught his eye. 

"What is it? Have you hurt yourself?" 

He grabbed him by the shoulders and put him back on the bench where he had previously sharpened his sword. 

"I... it's nothing. Just the-" 

"Yezzan! You should see this," a voice sounded at the end of the passage and Yezzan jumped up immediately. 

Curious, Jorah looked after him. 

What had happened? 

And then he heard the welcome call of the slaves. 

"We fight and die for you, O glorious queen!" 

Jorah jumped up. 

No way! 

The fight had already begun and the swords clashed when steel met steel. 

Without paying attention to Tyrion's surprised outcry, he rushed to the gate and let his gaze wander over the audience. 

And there she sat... 

Her violet eyes widened in horror as she watched as one of the slaves brutally plunged a knife into the stomach of another. Her silver hair shone in the afternoon sun and the white dress she was wearing made her shine even more. 

She sat there. 

Daenerys was sitting right in front of him! 

Only… they were parted by only a few metres! And gods, she was more beautiful than ever. Or maybe he had simply longed so much to see her that he was now completely mad. But it didn't matter... 

He noticed the man next to her. 

He had seen him once or twice before in Meereen, but he just didn't remember his name... or did he? 

Hizdhar zo Loraq! That was him! 

His eyes fell on Daenerys again. 

Was she really going to marry this man? Seriously? 

Well... she did it probably for political reasons. Still, it didn't make it any better! 

Suddenly she got up and wanted to leave. 

Jorah almost shouted for her to stay, but Hizdhar did that for him. It didn't seem like he could hold her much longer, though. 

Damn it! 

Quickly, he dashed back to Tyrion, grabbed his sword and put on his helmet. 

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" 

"Daenerys!", he replied, a bit happy, but also a bit insecure. 

Then he sprinted back to the gate, rammed it open with his shoulder and stood on the clay court.


	27. kill me or forgive me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dany's pov yey

"I won't watch this any longer," she hissed, trying to turn away from Hizdhar. 

Of all the men she could have chosen, he was the best, but that didn't mean anything. 

"Your Grace, it is an old custom that the queen and her husband watch the smaller fights as well," he explained in a calm voice and asked her with his gaze to sit down again. 

Daenerys was about to turn away when suddenly the gate from which all the fighters had come burst open and a single man rushed into the square. 

What…? 

She turned fully to the pit again and watched as this man knocked out the two guards who were trying to grab him to bring him back. 

What was the meaning of this? 

His face was hidden by a helmet and he was emaciated to the bone, yet he had no trouble knocking out the first fighter. She expected him to kill the unconscious man immediately so that he was no longer a danger to him, but the man simply left him lying there and turned to the next opponent. 

Fascinated by the suppleness with which he defended the sword strokes of each attacker, she watched as he knocked out three more fighters without killing a single one. The way he evaded and carried out his own attacks and the fact that he spared his victims reminded her of someone... but she could not say who. 

By now he had defeated all the fighters but one. The whole crowd remained silent and waited for one of them to attack the other. The smaller one had a flail that he swung around and kept the other at a distance, but Daenerys could see he was quite scared. 

Justified. 

The man, whose face she couldn't see, threw his sword at the other so that he was briefly confused and stopped waving his weapon. 

That was his mistake. 

Immediately, the other had picked up a helmet from the ground and struck his opponent on the head. He toppled over at once. The man threw the helmet to the ground and turned towards the queen. One of the other opponents rose again, but the man kicked him in the head before he could stand and the matter was settled. 

Daenerys noticed her breathing quickened slightly as he hesitantly approached her. Only when the Unsullied standing beside her raised their spears threateningly, did the man stop. He was only two metres away from her, and he stared at her undaunted. 

She swallowed hard... She felt uncomfortable... 

"Why don't you take off your helmet, dear Ser," she heard herself ask politely, but her voice trembled. 

No reaction... 

What should she do now? 

Unsettled she looked at Hizdhar, who just shrugged his shoulders. All of a sudden, the man lowered his head, raised his hands to place them on the helmet. 

Why didn't he just take it off? What was he waiting for? 

Then he finally took it off and dropped it on the floor. When he lifted his head again and looked at her with his azure eyes, her heart almost stopped. 

Impossible... S-she had banished him. 

"Khaleesi... please." 

His voice. 

His broken voice... 

Oh, how she had missed him! 

And yet the fact remained that Jorah had betrayed her. Spied on her. 

"Get him out of my sight!" she said, feeling tears filling her eyes. 

She didn’t want to look at him... but she had to. 

His eyes widened in horror. 

"No! I beg you, Khaleesi! Give me a chance!" 

Two Unsullied grabbed him and wanted to take him away, but he braced himself against them with all his weight, which couldn’t be much. He could have just finished them off, but he didn't use violence... he had never used violence against her before. 

"Wait! I brought you a gift!" 

What-? Did he think she would forgive him if he brought her a gift? 

"I'm not interested in any-" 

"It's true.” 

She was interrupted by a man who had just come onto the clay court.

"Who are you?", Daenerys asked, perplexed, not knowing where this was going. 

"I am the gift," he replied. 

"I am Tyrion Lannister."

She still couldn’t believe it. Although he was literally standing right in front of her. 

Why had he done this? 

"Your Grace, I want to say-" 

"You will not speak!" she interrupted him angrily. 

Why? Why had he come back? 

She had sworn to kill him! He knew that as well as she did. 

Why hadn't he just sailed off to Westeros and rotted on his damn island? 

Daenerys turned to the dwarf. 

"How do I know you are who you say you are?" 

They were in the courtroom and it was almost like last time. 

The only difference was Tyrion's presence and Barristan's absence. Her old knight and advisor was on patrol... She wished he were here now. She could trust him. At least she hoped so. 

"If only I were otherwise," Tyrion replied. 

"If you are Tyrion Lannister why shouldn't I kill you to pay your family back for what it did to mine?" Daenerys replied, waiting for a good answer. 

"You want revenge against the Lannisters? I killed my mother, Joanna Lannister, on the day I was born. I killed my father, Tywin Lannister, with a bolt to the heart... I am the greatest Lannister killer of our time." 

"So, I should welcome you into my service because you murdered members of your own family?" 

"Into your service? Your Grace, we've only just met. It’s too soon to know if you’re worthy of my service..." 

How could he? 

"If you’d rather return to the fighting pits..." she replied smiling, happy to have a distraction. “…just say the word.” 

Tyrion searched for the right words and when he found them, he said, "When I was a young man, I heard a story about a baby born during the worst storm in living memory. She had no wealth, no lands, no armies, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of whom probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves. They kept her alive, moving from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who’d been sent to kill her. She was eventually sold to some warlord on the edge of the world and that appeared to be that. And then a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew told me that this girl without wealth, lands or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons. He thought she was our best and last chance to create a better world... I thought you were worth meeting at the very least.” 

"And why are you worth meeting? Why should I spend my time listening to you?" she asked, not that coolly anymore. 

"Because you cannot build a better world on your own," the imp claimed. 

"You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule. The strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you.” 

Once such a person had been by her side... Her bear. 

"I will have a very large army... and very large dragons," replied the Queen clumsily. 

Tyrion almost had to smile. 

"Killing and politics are not always the same thing. When I served as Hand of the King, I did quite well with the latter, considering the king in question preferred torturing animals to leading his people. I could do an even better job advising a ruler worth the name... If that is indeed what you are.” 

Daenerys swallowed... 

"So, you want to advise me?" 

The dwarf shrugged and nodded. 

"Very well… What would you have me do with him?" 

She looked back at her former knight. 

She had already noticed in the pit that he was emaciated, but now... 

He had sunken cheeks, his lips were chapped, the rings under his eyes were actually black and he didn't seem to care about his sticky hair. In addition, his whole body was covered with dirt. 

He didn't even seem to be alive anymore. 

His eyes had lost their old shine, it had been replaced by a dull expression she couldn't interpret. 

Was it hatred? Or sadness? There was something crazy about it for sure. 

"He betrayed me... I swore I would kill him if he ever returned." 

"I know," mumbled Tyrion. 

Jorah continued to try to stand upright, but she could see he was trembling and would actually collapse if he wasn't so damn proud. 

She couldn't bear to see him like that... she wanted to go to him. She wanted to forgive him... but he had betrayed her when she depended on him the most. When she thought he was the only person she could trust. 

She could never forgive him for that. 

"Why would the people trust a queen who can’t keep her promises?" 

"I... know you loved Jorah Mormont and that he loved you... I know he was a noble man and his guilt ate at him. He told you nothing because he was afraid of losing you." 

Did that mean she should forgive him? 

"You should have tried to understand him and you should have forgiven Jorah Mormont, but..." 

Tyrion stepped a few steps up to her. 

"...this man..." 

He pointed at Jorah. 

"…is no longer Jorah Mormont." 

Confused, she looked back at Tyrion. 

And suddenly it happened. 

It was a mystery to her how Jorah had come to the Imp so quickly. He had pounced on him in a split second and pressed him onto the steps below him. 

Daenerys jumped up, startled, her mouth opened to a stifled scream of horror. 

"You bloody bastard!" he growled, sounding more like an animal. 

His hands were closed around the dwarf's neck, his eyes gleaming. It was as if something had been slumbering inside him all this time that he had been trying to control and which had now broken out. 

Immediately two Unsullied came rushing up and grabbed him by his upper arms to pull him away from the imp. 

"Let go of me!" 

He kicked and punched around, cursing them all and trying to wriggle out of their grips. 

Daenerys watched in dismay, not knowing what to do. 

"W-what was that?" she managed to say, still shocked and hurried to Tyrion when Jorah wouldn't calm down. 

He was still lying on the steps, gasping for air. 

"Get a healer," she ordered one of the Unsullied and glanced briefly at the fighting knight. 

"And reinforcement..." 

The soldier nodded and disappeared. 

"I'll be all right now," the dwarf gasped and sat up a little more upright. 

"Take your dirty hands off me," Jorah barked and became all of a sudden very quiet. 

Astonished, the Khaleesi turned to him, even hoping he had regained consciousness, and then she saw what had really silenced him. The soldiers had brought him to his knees, one had pressed the blade of a dagger to his throat and waited for his queen's command to continue. 

She had expected Jorah to stare at the Unsullied with hatred, which he did, but then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were fixed on her. It was as if something inside him was torn or... broken. 

"I can't live like this anymore... Can't you see what you've made me into?!" 

She flinched. 

"Please... kill me or forgive me..." he pleaded and she noticed that a lonely tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. 

His eyes shone and he pressed his lips together. All his strength had left his body. 

"Please... kill me..." 

"No..." she breathed and suppressed the urge to cry. 

Unwillingly she had come a few steps closer. 

"Then forgive me..." 

The hope in his eyes made it almost impossible for her to continue. 

For a moment she didn’t see the man who had betrayed her. She saw the man she loved with all her heart. She wanted him back. But Tyrion was right… that man no longer existed. 

She had killed him. 

"I can't,” she whispered. 

And now she knew what she had to do. It was the only way. 

"Get him out of the city," she ordered. 

Dany thought Jorah would start to resist again, call her names, maybe collapse in on himself, but he just looked at her. 

He looked at her... broken hearted...

Daenerys sat in her chambers on the bed and tried to forget him. 

After the Unsullied had taken Jorah away, she had left immediately. She hadn’t bothered about what was to happen to Tyrion. She hadn’t bothered about when she would be in court the next day. Not even about her children. 

She just sat there, staring into space, wondering what he was doing. 

But what could he do? 

He wouldn't be coming back for sure... he couldn't do anything in Meereen, because otherwise the Unsullied would actually kill him. He couldn't move to Yunkai or any other city because he didn't have a horse. For her, there was only one logical answer to the question. He would kill himself. 

“No…” Dany heard herself sobbing and buried her face in her hands. 

"You shouldn't have left me!" she cried out and grabbed a pillow to smother her scream. 

She was lost without Jorah... She had realized it when she sent him away the first time, but now that she had seen him again, she knew he was lost without her too. Only he was much worse off. 

"Come back again..." she whispered into the darkness, almost expecting him to appear from some corner of the room. 

And he would smile... tell her that he would never leave her again... take her in his arms and-. 

The door burst open. 

Startled, she wiped the tears from her face, trying to put on a neutral face. 

It was Daario. 

He and the Stormcrows had stayed loyal to her, even if he didn't like the fact that she hadn't forgiven Jorah. 

"What is it?" asked Daenerys and became suspicious when she realised something could be wrong. 

The sellsword was panting and a film of sweat covered his forehead. 

"Daario, what is it?!" 

"An ambush, Your Grace..." 

A shiver ran down her spine. 

"Any casualties?" 

"Yes... some Unsullied and Ser..." 

Not Jorah... Not Jorah! Please not Jorah! 

"...Ser Barristan", Daario finished the sentence depressed. 

"What...? No... No! H-he can't be dead…", Dany stuttered in shock, not able to believe it. 

She had only seen him this morning. Laughed with him and talked about Rhaegar. 

"Your Grace, I haven't finished... Grey Worm..." 

No. No, he couldn't be dead too. 

"... he's badly hurt. But he'll probably survive. It may only be a few weeks before he can return to duty." 

Daario fell silent, but she could tell there was something else. 

"Were it the sons of the Harpy?" she inquired and already feared the answer. 

And she was right. 

The Stormcrow shook his head and said, "Not according to some of the citizens... they said they didn't see any of them coming out of the alley. Just a man. One man." 

No… Please... 

"And?" 

"They described him as... derelict. Emaciated to the bone. Crazy. Bloodthirsty." 

No, no, no. That couldn’t be true. 

He would never do that! 

"Who were the witnesses? Why are you so sure they're telling the truth?" 

"Because… because I am one of them. And I'm sure it was Jorah I saw."


	28. but deeds might

He should have known. 

She wouldn't forgive him. 

She couldn't forgive him. 

She couldn't even trust him. Not after he attacked Tyrion. 

Jorah didn't know what had happened to him at that moment. He probably just couldn't stand anyone saying what he had suspected all along. 

He had gone mad. Completely crazy. 

The world would be better off without him. He was sure of that. 

Tired, he dragged himself through the alleys of Meereen with two of the Unsullied at his side to escort him out of the city. He had decided to lie down right in front of the wall and wait. For him to starve, for someone to kill him, for him to die of thirst... The sacrificial plan was forgot... 

But before they reached the wall, the soldiers were distracted by screams coming from a market place. 

"What's going on there?" asked one of them and took a few hesitant steps in the direction from which the noise was coming. 

A woman came rushing towards him, shouting something in some language the eunuch apparently understood. 

"An ambush! For a patrol!" 

Immediately, they stormed to the marketplace. 

Confused, Jorah looked after them. 

Should he just go himself or what? 

He decided to follow them. But when he arrived at the square, there was not a shadow of them. 

The crowd of people faded with every step he took and at some point, he stood alone. All the shouting and foot patter had so far completely covered up the clash of swords and the screams, but now that everything else had stopped, he could hear it clearly… 

It came from one of the small side streets. 

Quickly he hurried to the source and found himself in the middle of a fight between masked men and Unsullied. Some were already lying dead on the ground. The exiled recognised Ser Barristan, Grey Worm and the two Unsullied, who were still standing and fighting. 

Immediately Jorah picked up a dagger lying in the dirt in front of him and threw it at the first harpy’s son. It hit the man in the back. 

Grey Worm saw his old friend and didn't seem to know whether he should be happy or confused. At least he knew which side Jorah was fighting for. 

He grabbed one of the badly sharpened swords of a dead harpy’s son and killed another one with it. The others had all noticed by now that a someone else had joined the fight and split up. Three of them attacked the knight and he could barely dodge two attacks and fend off one. Then, he decided on one and thrust the blade between his ribs. 

The other two just attacked him again, when one lost his head and the other was pierced by Jorah's sword. Ser Barristan was the one who had come to his aid. He was about to thank him with a smile when one of the bastards stabbed the old man in the loins. His outcry was shockingly loud and, stunned by the pain, he slumped down. 

"Selmy!" 

Jorah stared at him, his eyes widened, then he turned his gaze to the bastard who had done this and already knew he was about to die so he ran away. Jorah saw just now that only he and Grey Worm were left. All the other sons of the Harpy had fled or were dead like the other two Unsullied. 

"Get him, Andal...", Grey Worm gasped and sank to the ground. 

"Help will come, we can both bear it till then." 

The exiled nodded, grabbed two daggers and sprinted off. Out of the alley and back on the market place, he recognised a group of Stormcrows approaching the alley. Fortunately. 

Help had arrived faster than expected. 

He didn't have time to check if Daario was among them, but just kept running. At the end of another street he just noticed the long robe disappearing behind a corner. 

There he was...

Jorah had caught him... crouched in a dark corner. That miserable son of a bitch. 

Smiling, he wandered along Meereen’s harbour, not knowing where to go. After all, he had just saved Ser Barristan and Grey Worm's lives. 

How would Daenerys react when she found out? 

Hopefully she would be happy... 

A patrol of Unsullied just emerged from an alley and Jorah was about to go to them, expecting them to give him some kind of message or at least thank him, but then they saw him too and one of them pointed his finger at him. They immediately rushed towards him with their weapons drawn. 

Shocked, he stared at them and turned around to get away. 

Whatever their problem was, he would not take the blame! 

He pushed people out of the way and slithered into the next street. It led from Meereen to a small village behind it. 

He would be safe there. For now. 

Jorah stumbled over his own feet a few times, but he still reached the gate pretty quickly. When he was about to go through, he noticed the guards. Quickly lowering his eyes and hoping they would not see him, he walked past them. 

And this one time, luck was on his side. 

"What do you want here? You are free," Yezzan greeted him in surprise and not exactly pleased … probably because Jorah had disobeyed his instructions on the clay court. 

The knight had made some inquiries in the village and found out that Yezzan was camping and training here with his fighters. For the big games in the arena of Daznak, of course. 

"I want to fight", he answered and looked briefly at the other fighters who had just trained and were now looking at him. 

"I am the best you have. You know that." 

The lean man came closer to him. 

"You have beaten two of my guards just to fight." 

"Have me flogged, if that makes you happy. But let me fight... for her," he said, not remembering why he was so obsessed with fighting for Daenerys. 

All he knew was that he just had to. 

"Please." 

Yezzan pondered for a moment and then nodded. 

"But you must eat and train or you will die before you even stand in the arena." 

He didn't say whether he would die of starvation or because someone would kill him.

Jorah had his first meal in... weeks? months? 

He had eaten his first meal in a very long time and decided to go to town. It was risky, yes, but he simply had to find out what this attack by the Unsullied meant. He had done nothing wrong. 

So, what was their problem? 

He had… well, borrowed a coat from Yezzan... and had gone off, the hood pulled low in his face. No one would recognise him unless they tore off his coat. He had also taken a stick with which to defend himself, and on his belt was a dagger, which was covered by the cloak. 

Nothing could happen to him. 

Slowly he made his way through the gate without the guards noticing him and he saw this as a small victory. He looked around furtively and made his way to one of the taverns nearby. 

A few times he almost collided with other people, as he stared at his boots the whole time. He nearly walked past the door, but in time the sign caught his eye and he stepped inside. He would sit down at a table and listen to the conversations of others. If he wasn't lucky here, he would try the harbour, even if that was much more dangerous. 

Jorah briefly let his gaze wander through the room and to his surprise he spotted Daario and some other Stormcrows. He was about to go and greet him, but then he remembered that if his friend served Daenerys faithfully, he could not be on his side. So, he chose a place near him instead and settled down there. 

He could hear the conversation perfectly. 

"...and then I said, you can't trust these bastards, you have to think like them if you want to track them down... How stunned they looked at me..." 

Daario laughed and then went on. 

"Well, and then I looked around the room and noticed something suspicious. All the walls in the room were filled with some shelves, but not this one. Well, you might think it was the bed, but that was a little too obvious. So, I went to the wall, pulled my dagger and rammed it in. And I was right!" 

He took a big gulp from his cup. 

"At once you heard the howling and half the wall crumbled away..." 

"Man... I wish I could have been there", a strange voice laughed and murmurs of agreement were heard. 

"But you said something earlier about an attack on an Unsullied Patrol... and that those attackers weren’t Sons of the Harpy." 

"Doesn't sound good..." 

"Yes. What was it about, Naharis?" 

"Well... Surely you knew this one knight whom Daenerys banished some months ago." 

"Jorah Mormont?" 

"The very same." 

The banished knight's neck hair started prickling. 

It was awkward to overhear such conversations... but that was why he was there. 

"So, he came back. He fought in a pit and he won in the end. When Daenerys saw that it was him, she took him and his gift to Meereen for a... trial? Something like that. So, his gift was some dwarf, which is apparently quite valuable. Anyway, she accepted the dwarf into her service..." 

Jorah clenched his hands into fists... 

He was sure that damn imp would tell Daenerys everything... Really everything. And that was just too much. Daenerys wouldn’t understand and... see him in a completely wrong way. 

He should have just killed Tyrion! 

Well... maybe one day it would come to that. 

"...and she banished Jorah again. Two Unsullied were supposed to take him out of the city, but he just killed them in an alley." 

Was that what those idiots thought? Seriously? 

"Then, when the patrol came, he killed them too... don't ask me how. He just didn't kill Grey Worm because we would have caught him. Otherwise, they're all dead." 

What?!

But... But Ser Barristan was alive, too! 

What had happened there? 

And why hadn't Grey Worm told them what actually happened? 

Or had that actually happened? 

Was Daario telling the truth? 

Had he really attacked the Unsullied and just imagined everything? 

Had he gone so crazy? 

No... no, it couldn't be. 

There had to be another explanation! There just had to be! 

"I am not crazy!" he growled so low that only he could hear himself. 

He was not crazy! Not crazy! 

He stood up unintentionally and a bit too energetically. The chair he had been sitting on crashed to the floor. 

Immediately some glances were directed at him. Among them was that of the Stormcrows. 

Gods be damned! 

Daario would surely recognise him! 

He was right… 

"Hey!" 

The knight gave him a glance and the moment they both looked into each other's eyes, Jorah knew he had to get out of here. 

Now! 

"What the...?" 

The exiled took a step back and hit a table. He winced and grabbed it with his hands to make sure that the other one hadn't fallen over too. He was still looking at the Stormcrows and they were still looking at him. 

"Isn't that him?" someone asked and then all hell broke loose. 

At least in Jorah's mind. 

He turned around, jumped on the table and ran across them to the exit. The angry shouts grew louder with each jump and he knew the sellswords were right on his heels. His hood had slipped down and his face was clearly visible. 

Shit! 

He practically fell off the last table and rolled himself awkwardly over the floor. There was a man standing in the doorway who tried to stop him, but Jorah hurriedly pulled himself up and gave him a quick, rather violent kick to the chest, causing him to fall to the floor and clear the way. 

He stormed head over heels into the street and elbowed his way through a small gap. Not knowing if he was still being followed, he turned into an alley. A dead end. 

Goddamn it! 

But then he heard the sellswords' calls and he quickly ducked behind a barrel. Carefully he peered over the edge onto the road and saw his pursuers running past the alley. Relieved, he sank to the ground. 

That had been a close call... 

"Did you really think I wouldn't find you here?” 

Daario! 

Before he could stand up again, a blade was held against his chest. 

Bloody bastard! 

"No, I had hoped it..." he growled and tried to get his breath under control. 

"Lately it doesn't seem like your hoping is doing any good," the sellsword sneered insidiously and pulled his arakh back from his chest. 

Surprised, Jorah looked at him. 

Was that some kind of trick? 

"Come on! Get up," the Stormcrow commanded and offered him a hand. 

The knight then patted himself up, ignoring that hand. 

"What do you want?" 

"The truth..." 

Jorah snorted. 

"Everyone seems to know the truth. I killed the Unsullied and Sons of the Harpy all alone and then I ran away." 

Daario shook his head. 

"I know it wasn't like that... even if all the evidence pointed to it." 

Then he paused for a moment. 

"You seem to be surer of that than I am..." mumbled Jorah, but the sellsword waved away his words with one hand and asked, "What did you just say?” 

"That you're more certain about this..." 

"No. Before that," he interrupted him impatiently. 

Jorah stood on the hose. 

"Tell me. We haven't got forever. You said something about Sons of the Harpy.” 

"Well... everyone seems to think I killed all those bastards and Unsullied alone... but that's impossible. They were much too-..." 

"Sons of the Harpy?", the Stormcrow asked. 

"Yes, as I was just saying..." said the exiled, somewhat annoyed. 

What was Daario getting at? 

"But there were none of them," he claimed. 

Jorah smiled. 

The sellsword was joking... right? 

"Of course... there were several bodies of them. And when I left, everyone was dead except Grey Worm and Barristan. They said they could take care of themselves and I should go after one of the sons. Well, and then you came." 

"But Barristan was dead when we came, Grey Worm unconscious and not a single Son of the Harpy..." 

Shit... 

What if he had imagined everything? 

What if he had really killed them all? 

"Well...that leaves only one logical possibility," Jorah answered, and it hurt to admit that to himself. 

Daario nodded and said: "A band of Harpy’s sons came and took the bodies away.” 

At the same time the knight murmured: "I am crazy." 

And then both: "What?" 

Daario shook his head and said, "You're not crazy in that way." 

"Thank you, that was touching", thanked the exiled sarcastically and was still glad that at least one person in this world believed that. 

"Do you really think a band of Harpy’s sons removed the bodies?" 

"What else could have happened?" 

"I don't know, I-." 

Jorah interrupted himself, hearing something in the distant. 

The clatter could only mean one thing. 

Unsullied! 

"I've got to get out of here!" 

Daario understood and looked around. 

"Hide behind the barrel. I'll be right back." 

And off he went. 

He sat down and waited.

Was he crazy or not? 

And he waited. 

Had he killed the Unsullied? 

And waited. 

Was he a bad man? 

Then he heard the voices. 

"...I thought he was hiding here somewhere, but he's not." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Do I look like I'm not?” 

Then the Unsullied turned away and the sellsword came back. 

"Come on! We must hurry!" 

This time he grabbed Daario's outstretched hand and they headed off to... where? 

Jorah didn’t know. He just blindly followed his friend. His only friend. 

"We're at the city wall now... Where do you have to go, Andal?" he whispered and Jorah pulled his hood over his head again. 

"I have to go to the village..." 

"That's not going to be easy." 

"Nothing is easy right now." 

"That's true..." 

And they actually made it. 

They hadn't gone through the gate, but some passageway. 

But they had made it. 

"So... you're welcome." 

"Thank you..." muttered the knight, bringing a slender smile to his face. 

He tried to turn away, but Daario stopped him. 

"Any message for Daenerys?" 

"If you tell her, she'll know you helped me." 

"Well, I could say you shouted this message just before you jumped into the water at the harbour and left." 

"But we weren't even at the port..." 

"Then I'll think of something else. So?" 

He thought for a moment... 

"Tell her I don't know what to say. No words can make up for my crimes. But deeds might." 

He grabbed his necklace, tore up the string holding the peach stone. Then he gave it to his friend. 

"And give her this."


	29. fight and die

„How’s Grey Worm?“ 

“I think… I hope he’ll wake up soon. I am curious to hear what he will have to report.” 

Daenerys nodded. 

“If he remembers anything.” 

“If he remembers anything,” Missandei agreed and lowered her gaze to the ground. 

“Do you think that Ser Jorah actually did this?” 

The question caught Dany off-guard and at first, she didn’t know what to answer. 

“Well… I… I’m not… entirely sure. I don’t think he would’ve done it in the past but Tyrion is right. He’s not who he used to be.” 

“You cannot assess him anymore?” 

“No, I cannot…” 

“But if there is someone who could, it is you.” 

The conviction in the young scribe's voice made her smile sadly. 

“You seem surer of this than I am… Do you think it’s true?” 

“No,” the answer came immediately and the queen looked surprised at her friend. 

“Why are you so sure of it? Do you think Daario lied?” 

“I think he might have misjudged the situation. Ser Jorah would’ve never killed soldiers… not your soldiers. He and Grey Worm were good friends, he would never betray a friend.” 

Daenerys swallowed. 

He had betrayed her, hadn’t he? And they’d been far more than just friends. 

When Missandei saw her hurt expression she added quickly, “I mean… he would’ve never killed him.” 

Would he have killed her, if he’d been ordered to do so? 

The thought and the fact that she didn’t know the answer scared her. 

Had she really been so very wrong about him? She had used to think she knew him. 

Dany forced a smile onto her lips and met her friend’s worried gaze. 

“That… sounds reasonable… But what everyone else is saying, too. I… I’m afraid I just don’t want to believe that he did it.” 

“Hopefully we’ll find out the truth when Grey Worm wakes up.” 

“Yes, gods be good.” 

She had said it without thinking twice, but now that she had heard those words, that Westerosi phrase he used to say, her chest tightened. 

Seven hells, she had to forget about him! 

Missandei got up and said, “If you allow, I’d like to get back to… to Grey Worm…” 

Dany blinked, startled, as she saw her friend blush. 

“Of course…” 

She smiled and turned to go. But halfway she stopped and looked back to the Khaleesi. 

“One thing… You said, you aren’t sure. What if he’s innocent? Wouldn’t it be better if you ordered your soldiers to capture him… instead of killing? I mean… don’t you… don’t you owe him that much?” 

“I…” 

How could she dare to say something like that? 

Daenerys didn’t owe that traitor anything! 

“It was too risky. For if he’s guilty, he might kill even more of my soldiers. I can't put my people through that.” 

In truth, she could no longer change her command, because everyone would then say that love had blinded her or she still saw his past self. But she did not say that.

Instead, she watched Missandei leave the room and then rushed to her bed. Tired, she let herself sink into the pillows. 

Tomorrow she would marry Hizdhar... there had been no more attacks from the Harpy’s sons in recent weeks, meaning he had kept his promise and she now had to keep hers. But she didn’t want to... 

He didn’t arouse a single feeling of affection in her. When she saw him, she automatically felt bored, and when he came close to her, she wanted to run away from him. Not that he was a bad person... she simply didn’t love him. 

Until now, she had only truly loved two people in her whole life. 

Rhaego and… and her bear. 

The bear, she had killed. 

Well, perhaps not totally… yet. Perhaps he was still inside that body. Somewhere… deep inside. That part of him wouldn’t allow the new Jorah to kill her soldiers. She was sure of it… or did she hope it? 

Did her love actually blind her? 

She thought of Tyrion. 

When she had announced that she would accept him, he had mentioned that they had something important to talk about. It had seemed to be about Jorah. However, she hadn't been willing to talk about him with anyone - and certainly not with Tyrion - so she had figured it could wait. Now she wondered what it was... 

Suddenly, there was a rather vigorous knock on the door and she was torn from her thoughts. 

“Come in!” 

She straightened and wiped away a tear that was about to roll down her reddened cheek. 

It was Daario. 

He looked a bit dishevelled and headed towards her with big steps. 

“I uh… I saw him.” 

“What?!” 

Daenerys jumped up in shock. 

“What did you do to him?” 

Her lips started trembling. 

Was he already dead? 

No… please… Jorah had to live. 

Although he might have killed those soldiers of hers? 

Although he might have killed her as well? 

“Nothing,” responded Daario and slumped down on a chair. 

“He ran away when he saw us. We split up and searched for him everywhere. I finally found him. At one of the markets.” 

“What happened then?” 

“I followed him into a dead end, I was sure I would catch him. But…” 

He still panted heavily. 

“…but somehow he got up onto the wall that built the end of the street. I thought, he’d just jump down on the other side which he did but before that, he said something…” 

“What? What did he say?” 

“He said something like… uh… like: I don't know what to say. No words can make up for my crimes. But deeds might." 

Did this mean that he had attacked the Unsullied and even confessed it? Or did it mean... did it mean that he had betrayed her? 

As Daenerys wrestled with her thoughts on the inside, the sellsword rummaged in a bag and pulled out a necklace. Well, not really a necklace. It was a simple cord, with some object as a pendant. Daario held it out to her. 

"What is that?" she questioned suspiciously and came a little closer to examine the necklace. 

"He tore it from his neck and threw it to me. I shall give it to you, he said", he explained and waited for her to take it. 

Carefully, Dany grabbed the band and held it so she could look at the pendant. 

Seven hells, what…? 

_I love you too._

What… what was that? 

And then she remembered. 

Once they had gone for a walk in Vaes Tolorro and climbed a tree. He had told her about Lynesse while they had eaten peaches. She had scratched into one of the stones _I love you_. But in a language, he certainly did not understand. She had also thrown the stone away. 

How had he found it? 

How had he known what was written on it? 

And now she remembered something else. 

King Cleon... the butcher King of Astapor. He had been found dead. A peach stuck in his mouth. She didn't know what it meant then, but now... 

Had that been Jorah, too? 

Well... if it had been, he'd made things a lot easier for her. Without Cleon, Astapor had reverted to the state she had left the city in, and Yunkai hadn't attacked Meereen because she had sent the Storm Crows in time to restore order. Without Jorah, she would not have succeeded... they would probably be under siege now, or at worst, defeated and sold as slaves. 

“You’re Grace? Are you alright?” 

Daario’s words brought her back on earth. 

“Yes… yes, I am.” 

She swallowed. 

“You should go now… I have to think about… all of this.” 

She turned without saying another word and walked straight to her patio. 

It had grown dark and the big fires of Meereen were lit. From the balcony everything looked so peaceful and quiet. Somewhere down there was Jorah... probably at least. And Hizdhar. 

What did he think of the knight? 

She thought about it for a moment, then she realised that she didn't care what any conceited nobility thought about her bear. No. Wrong. About that traitor... who had saved her life more than once. And who had loved her. Still did. Damn it! 

She ran a hand through her hair. 

What had Jorah meant when he said, "But deeds might"? 

Somehow, she was afraid of the next day. For she knew that her wedding would have something to do with his plan. The question was, what was he planning and how would she react? 

Suddenly she heard a rustling behind her. Not the rustling of leaves, no, the rustle of wings that brushed over scales. Quickly she turned around and looked up. 

"Drogon!", she gasped in amazement and inevitably had to smile. 

"I thought something might have happened to you..." 

The dragon made a kind of... dragon purr and climbed down the roof of the pyramid a little further. Carefully she stretched out her hand. 

How big it was! 

His hot breath met her skin and she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt something so pleasant. When she put her hand on Drogon's snout, he closed his eyes and gave a soft rumble. 

"I’ve missed you so much... your brothers will be more than-" 

Daenerys broke off. 

His brothers... she had locked them in. And she'd have to do the same to Drogon if anyone but her saw him. 

"You got to get out of here! Go!" 

She had pulled her hand back and the dragon looked at her, clearly confused. 

"Come on! Get out of here!" 

He gave a reluctant cooing sound. 

"You must go, Drogon! But… please come back tomorrow night.” 

She wasn't sure he understood. 

He made one last, offended sound and then pushed himself off the roof. He flapped his wings a few times and disappeared. 

Now she felt even lonelier than before.

It was already afternoon... until now the wedding had gone off without incident. Unfortunately. 

Hizdhar was looking even more like a colourful bird than usual. She was wearing a white dress, had rejected the pearl veil though and had her hair braided by Missandei. Daenerys had probably never been dressed up so extremely for anything else. Not even for the wedding of Khal Drogo and her. 

She sat in a carriage with her husband and avoided any eye contact with him. They were on their way to the fighting pit. Something she could well have done without. She could have done without the whole day. But she wanted to rule Meereen. For that she had to get married. Even if she didn’t want to. 

She eyed her new husband from the corner of her eye. 

He smiled at the crowd that was standing at the side of the road and waved to a few children who ran laughing behind the carriage, shouting Mhysa. She tried to appear happy as well and put on a forced smile that the crowd seemed to buy. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the arena. Immediately, the Unsullied gathered around them and cleared the way for them. Missandei, Daario and Tyrion were already waiting for them in the royal box. 

"So? Had a nice trip?" grinned the sellsword, but Daenerys just gave him an annoyed look and sat down in their place. 

She was sitting beside Missandei and Hizdhar, who was placed next to Tyrion. The two of them didn't seem to know what to say, so they kept quiet. Dany turned to her friend, asking, "How is Grey Worm?" 

"Good. Compared to the last few days, very good. He woke up for the first time this morning, but the Graces immediately infused him with milk of the poppy." 

"Did he say anything about... the incident?" 

"No... but he did not look as if a good friend had just betrayed him." 

Missandei was apparently still convinced that Jorah was innocent. 

"Why are you defending a traitor?" 

She shrugged her shoulders.

"You were happy with him... you needed him and he needed you. Nothing has changed that." 

Daenerys wanted to contradict her, tell her she could do without traitors, but then a man stepped into the arena and waved his arms to silence the crowd. 

"Free citizens of Meereens!” he yelled. 

"With the blessing of the Graces and Her Majesty the Queen, I welcome you to the Great Games!" 

He gestured wildly and thunderous cheers broke out. 

Two more men came running into the arena and lined up to the left and right of the first. One was huge and muscular, the other small, but armed with a shield and not only sword. 

"The first contest... Who will triumph? The strong one..." 

He pointed to the giant. 

"... or the fast one?" 

He pointed to the little one who stepped forward and screamed, "I fight and die for your glory, my glorious queen." 

The strong one stepped forward and yelled the same. Then the announcer went through a gate again and disappeared. Daenerys had watched the whole thing, now sat there with a petrified expression on her face, waiting for them to start fighting. 

Nothing happened. Instead, everyone looked at her. 

“They’re waiting for you. Clap your hands,” Hizdhar said. 

Normally it would not have been so difficult for her to clap, but now that she knew it would kill one of these two young men... 

She hesitantly rose her hands and clapped once. 

The sound echoed throughout the arena and then the crowd started roaring and screaming and the gladiators began to circle around each other. Then the fight started. 

The little man ducked under the huge sword that was coming towards him and stabbed the strong man in the back with his much smaller one. But he already dodged and so he didn't catch him cleverly. 

Daario chuckled. 

“That one! The small one no question, that’s where you should put your money.” 

“The smaller man it is,” Tyrion muttered. 

Daenerys rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not putting my money anywhere.” 

“Kings and queens never bet on the games. Perhaps you should go find someone who does,” her husband suggested without turning away from the fight. 

The Stormcrow sighed. 

„People used to bet against me when I fought in the pits. He would have bet against me. Common novice mistake.” 

“I’ve spent much of my life in this arena and in my experience, large men do triumph over smaller men far more often than not,” elucidated Hizdhar. 

Dany was tired of this conversation and turned to her husband. 

“Has your experience ever involved any actual fighting? You yourself? Have you ever tried to kill another man who was trying to kill you?” 

At this, Tyrion smiled, Hizdhar frowned and the sellsword grinned. 

“Whenever I got into the pit against a beast like that one, the crowd saw me, all skin and bone back then, then they saw a pile of angry muscles ready to murder me. They couldn’t get their money out fast enough.” 

Suddenly he had a knife in his hand and whirled it around. 

“But the pile of angry muscles never had any muscles here…” 

He pointed with the tip of the dagger at his larynx. 

“…or here.” 

This time the steel pointed to Hizdhar's carotid artery. 

„And the big men always were too slow to stop my dagger from going where their muscles weren’t. Yes, whenever I saw a beast like that one standing across from me making his beast faces, I knew I could rest easy.” 

Daenerys had to smile when Daario told his story so passionately. She almost forgot the fight... but only almost. 

Suddenly, she heard syringes, a thud, and the crowd was cheering even louder than before. 

The strong man had cut off the head of the fast one with one blow. Hizdhar threw a triumphant glance at the Stormcrow. 

“You don’t approve?” Dany heard him asking Tyrion. 

„There’s always been more than enough death in the world for my taste. I can do without it in my leisure time,” he answered and watched with sad eyes as the lifeless body was dragged away. 

“Fair enough. Yet it’s an unpleasant question, but what great thing has ever been accomplished without killing or cruelty?” the king asked. 

“It’s easy to confuse with what ought to be, especially when what is has worked out in your favour.” 

“I’m not talking about myself. I’m talking about the necessary conditions for greatness.” 

“That is greatness?” the queen asked and watched as the pool of blood was covered with clean sand. 

“That is a vital part of the great city of Meereen, which existed long before you or I and will remain standing long after we have returned to the dirt,” Hizdhar explained. 

Tyrion turned back to the clay court. 

“My father would have liked you.” 

The gates opened again and now several armed men came rushing in. At the head the announcer. 

"We ask again: Who will triumph?" 

Dany turned to her husband again. She would rather talk to him than watch these foolish gladiators die. 

“One day your great city will return to the dirt as well.” 

“At your command?” 

“If need be.” 

She only marginally heard the announcer shouting: "The champion from Meereen?" 

“And how many people will die to make this happen?” Hizdhar asked. 

“If it comes to that, they will die for a good reason,” she answered. 

The king nodded towards the Meereenese champion, who was shouting: “I fight and die for your glory, my glorious queen.” 

“Those men think they’re dying for a good reason.” 

“Someone else’s reason.” 

“So, your reasons are true and theirs are false? They don’t know their own minds, but you do?” 

“Well said,” Tyrion threw in. 

“You’re an eloquent man. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong. In my experience, eloquent men are right every bit as often as imbeciles.” 

Daenerys had to smile. 

And again, their talk was interrupted by the announcer. 

"Or a knight from Westeros?" 

She actually wanted to say something, but she paused when the last man introduced himself. 

"I fight and die for your glory, my glorious queen." 

And she knew Jorah actually meant to fight and die this time.


	30. oh yes

He looked Daenerys right in the eye. 

She seemed afraid. For him? Of him? 

Did she really think he had killed those Unsullied? 

Maybe he had. 

Actually, he should have been shaking, but his whole body was relaxed. There was a calm in him that he could not describe. 

He didn’t care what would happen next. Perhaps the calmness came from that. 

He saw how some Stormcrows wanted to come into the arena to... well, probably to remove him. But Daario gave them a sign to stay out of it. 

Daenerys was still staring at him. 

He wanted to shout for her to finally clap her hands so he could prove to her… Prove what? 

Well... everything. 

That he would die for her... that he would fight for her till the very end... that he regretted it... 

Clap! 

A smile spread across his face. 

Now he probably looked even crazier than usual, but he couldn't help being happy. That she had clapped meant so much to him. It meant that she gave him a chance. And that was more than he deserved. 

The screaming crowd brought him back into the pit. His first opponent was a dark-skinned, seven-foot man. Jorah had a sword and hardened leather for protection. No shield and no helmet. 

"Time to play..." he murmured and focused his thoughts on the fight. 

Skilfully he dodged under the long axe of his opponent and tried to stab him with his sword. But he didn’t get him. Then the other threw the axe at Jorah’s head. The knight escaped the attack only by centimetres. 

He swung his sword again, but his attack was blocked by the axe handle. The dark man rammed the blunt end of his weapon into the knight's belly who lost his breath. Then the blunt metal side slammed against his head and he went down. 

His sword had flown out of his hand. 

The crowd commented with screams and cheers and booing. 

His head felt like it would burst at any second. 

He quickly crawled up to his weapon and could only at the last moment beat the axe that was blown down on him aside. He jumped up again, resting on his sword only for a short time. His opponent took advantage of this moment and knocked it away from him. 

And again, Jorah lay on the ground. 

Angrily he growled a curse into the sand. 

This time he pulled a dagger, dodged the axe and, while standing up, slit the other one's arm. He ducked away under his fist, grabbed the arm and forced him to kneel down on the ground, so that he could now almost effortlessly ram the dagger into his heart. 

It was easier than expected... 

With eyes wide open Dany had watched the fight. Jorah returned her gaze only briefly and then turned to his next opponent. 

He threw away his dagger and picked up his sword. His opponent had the same weapon, only the blade was much thinner and could easily stab through leather or chain mail, as he would soon learn. As the blade pierced his flesh, Jorah flinched, but was still able to parry the following attack. And the one after that as well. But not the following ones. They were simply too fast. 

Blood ran down his cheek, his right shirt sleeve was soaked in blood and he slumped to the floor after the other had slit his thigh. He quickly rolled onto his back and found himself facing a sword pointing at him. 

He was out of breath and entirely exhausted... 

He knew that he could no longer fight that blade off. Jorah turned his head so he could see his queen one last time. 

He had never told her how much he loved her... everything he had ever said was an understatement. 

Daenerys’ mouth was open, she couldn't move but only stare at him. 

Was this it? Would it all be over in a few seconds? 

He blinked, then closed his eyes, ready to die. 

His breath grew faster and faster. 

The man drew for the fatal blow, the whole arena silent. Actually, it was so quiet that Jorah could even hear the choked cry of his opponent. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a spearhead sticking out of his opponent’s chest and he toppled over without the sword even touching Jorah. 

The Meereenese Champion had saved him and was waiting for him to stand up and fight. And he did. 

Jorah took up his sword. 

If he won now, only he would be left and he would win. 

The Meereenese attacked first. 

The side blow was easily repelled. Smoothly his opponent let the spear play over his back, then he attacked again. This time on the other side. Again, the knight blocked. 

And then they started properly. 

Jorah struggled to keep his opponent's weapon in view at all times, but then he somehow managed to hold the spear between his arms and his back and he pushed his knee into the other one's abdomen. However, the champion was still able to push him away so that he crashed backwards onto the ground. The Meereenese champion was already standing above him and drew out with his spear. 

Jorah had no time to think, he just acted. 

Right before the spear pierced his chest, he grabbed the wood behind it and pushed it away. The crowd had cried out in horror and now cheered again. Still heavily breathing and still unable to actually consider his actions, he bent over, did a somersault and found himself next to the champion who had been about to rush towards him. 

Jorah didn't look at him, but only thrust the sword into his opponent’s stomach. If he had made any sound at all, the knight hadn’t heard it thanks to the screaming crowd. They booed him off, but he didn’t care… it didn't matter. 

He raised his eyes to Daenerys. 

If he was being honest, he didn't know what to do now. 

He hadn’t expected to get through this. Neither had she, apparently. 

He almost laughed... at himself. At the situation. Just at this whole damn world. 

But something else caught his attention. 

What was that? 

Something golden flashed up. And that could only mean one thing. 

Sons of the harpy! 

The man was creeping up behind Daenerys! 

What could he do? Goddammit! 

His gaze fell on the spear. 

He had to. 

He fixed the man with his eyes. 

He grabbed it. 

Picked it up. 

Threw it. 

The screams must have been unbearable, but he blocked them out. The spear seemed to fly in slow motion. 

His thoughts were a jumble... 

What if he missed? 

What if he caught Daenerys? 

Was that the only Son of the Harpy here? No. No, there had to be more. 

The man was pierced with such force that he seemed to fly through the air for several metres before hitting the ground. 

Daenerys had ducked, probably thinking he was after her. But when she saw who he had hit, her eyes widened in horror. 

Jorah saw another man with a harpy mask in the middle of the crowd and then another one. And another one. More and more were coming. 

They were everywhere! 

Disbelieving, he let his gaze wander over the stands. There were golden masks flashing everywhere. They were trapped... 

Jorah started stumbling. 

He had to get to Daenerys. She was the target of the Harpy’s Sons. 

He found a way out of the ring, hurried up a small staircase to the grandstands and found himself in pure chaos. The commoners ran in different directions to get to safety and some were stabbed by the daggers and sabres of the Sons of the Harpy. 

Where was the royal box? 

Only now, when he was no longer fighting or running, he felt all his wounds and his burning lungs... 

But he couldn’t give in now! 

He decided on a direction and pushed his way through between the screaming citizens. Again and again someone pushed him out of the way, each time he turned around, expecting to look a golden mask in the face, but fortunately this was never the case. 

And finally, he saw the awning that covered the platform. 

He was almost there! 

Spurred on by the thought, he wriggled further between the people. When he arrived, all around him Unsullied were fighting and in the middle of it all were Daenerys, Missandei, Tyrion and Daario. Hizdhar lay already dead in a pool of blood before them. The Stormcrow was busy with one of the masked ones, so he didn’t see the other one coming. 

Quickly, the knight cut him off and rammed the blade into his neck. 

Out of breath he turned to Daenerys. 

He couldn’t help but laugh in relief. 

His azure-blue eyes glowed for the first time in ages and had almost completely shed their dull veils. 

Dany was apparently still not quite sure whether she should trust him, but even she couldn't help smiling. Wordlessly she raised a hand to her neck and pulled a necklace out from under her dress. 

It was the peach stone necklace. 

"I didn't know you spoke Valyrian..." 

His mouth was open and he would have liked to reply, but then Daario destroyed the moment when he shouted, "It's nice that you’re getting along again, but we still have to leave!” 

Jorah knew that his friend was right and yet he would have liked to punch him in the face. But he restrained himself and took a step closer to Daenerys. 

"Do you trust me? Just for this moment?" 

He offered her his hand. 

Daenerys said nothing, but the fact that she put her hand in his was answer enough. 

"Go! This way!" cried the Stormcrow and led them off the platform. He stopped at a place from which it was easy to jump into the ring. 

"The stairs are blocked... we must go this way." 

Jorah nodded and jumped first. Then came Daenerys. Daario slowly let her down by her hands and Jorah caught her. Then Missandei. Then Tyrion - Jorah deliberately made him hit the ground a little harder - and finally Daario. 

"Does anyone see a gate that’s still open?" Tyrion asked. 

"There!", Jorah said and they ran towards the gate he had pointed to. 

He was the first to enter the passage and just saw the gap between stone and wood close. 

"No!" 

He ran on and tried to ram the gate open again with his shoulder. It was no use. 

"Damn it! We can't get out of here..." 

What would they do now? It would be a long time before help from outside arrived. 

"Back on the clay court," Daario said slightly out of breath and so they did. 

They gathered in the middle and the remaining Unsullied formed a protective circle around them. For the time the sons of the harpy were banished, but then one entered the circle and the others took their cue from him. So far, thanks to Daario and Jorah, none had made it to the queen or the other two, but it was only a matter of time before that would happen. 

And everyone knew it. 

They were lost... 

The sweat ran down Jorah's forehead and he tasted a mixture of iron and salt. He was weakened but he would continue until Daenerys was safe. 

Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream sounded somewhere above the clouds... and it could only mean one thing. 

"Drogon," breathed Dany in relief. 

But it wasn't just one dragon. It were all three. 

The other two were small compared to their brother, but they had sharp teeth and could breathe fire. They landed in the pit and started to set the sons of the harpy on fire, some of them scattered screaming, but others had grabbed their spears and thrown them at the dragons. Not each hit, but a few found their way.

"No... No, no, no!" he heard Dany whimpering and Jorah turned to her. 

Panic was reflected in her eyes and tears were running down her cheeks. 

"They won’t leave without you..." 

He didn’t need to explain further what he meant. 

Daenerys hesitated briefly, then nodded and slowly walked to Drogon. The knight was afraid that one of the spears would hit her, but Drogon watched over her. As she stood in front of him and reached out her hand, he blew warm air towards her, causing her hair to dishevel slightly. And then she did it. She climbed on his back. 

Drogon gave a loud screech and rose into the air. He had to flap his wings a few times and then he was over the arena. Viserion followed him, but Rhaegal was still on the sand court roasting harpies. 

His brothers seemed to be calling him, for he raised his head to look at them, but then he came to Jorah tapped. Well... tapped was the minimized form of it. 

"Oh no...", Jorah murmured as he realised what it meant. 

Rhaegal's look just seemed to say, "Oh yes."


	31. damned traitors - her last hope

Drogon gave a growl and flew towards a rather charred place to land there. Viserion and Rhaegal followed him. 

Relieved Jorah breathed out and held on to the dragon a little stronger again. They had been flying for hours now and hadn't exchanged a single word... And he had been wondering the whole time what would happen when they landed. In that case, he would have had no problem flying for several more hours. But it was clear that he could not avoid it – whatever it was – forever. 

Unexpectedly, Rhaegal landed and the knight almost lost his footing. Shocked and rather stiff from the flight and his wounds, he climbed from the back of the dragon to the ground. 

He turned around… and found himself facing Daenerys. Although she didn't seem to know what to do either. 

“Daenerys, I… Your Grace,” he corrected himself and recalled the day she had banished him. 

_Don’t ever presume to touch me again or speak my name!_

What did he expect her to do? Even he himself had understood that she could never forgive him. What he had done was simply unforgiveable. 

“I’ve heard rumours, your Grace… I’ve heard, you’d think I had attacked the patrol…” 

It was best if he first took some guilt off his shoulders and then dealt with the real burden. 

“I want you to know that I would never do something of that kind. Although my recent behaviour seems to contradict that.” 

He swallowed. 

“I want you to know… I have sworn the oath to myself to protect you until the moment I die and I don’t intend to break this oath. Never.” 

He hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes until now, he just had to see her reaction. 

Her mouth was slightly opened and it was hard for him not to bend over and seal it with his lips. Especially now that her gaze too flitted from his eyes to his lips and back again. His heart pounded against his ribs and… what was breathing again? How did it work? 

He was about to raise his hand and stroke a silver lock behind her ear when she broke eye contact. He blinked, trying to keep his composure and ran a hand through his matted hair in shame. 

“Well, I think it was best if we’d focus on how to get back to Meereen,” she said and wanted to turn away. 

At those words his hard skipped a beat. 

They were already back to we! A forced we, indeed, but at least there was a we. 

She stopped and looked back at him. 

“I’m glad to hear you weren’t the one who killed my soldiers.” 

He managed to smile… the first real smile that wasn’t crazy since months. 

“And I’m glad, you can keep your anger at bay,” he returned, half joking. 

Her warm smile that followed his words made him stop breathing again. 

“Daario was an idiot to think, that you would attack a patrol of mine…” 

“Well, at least he was the first to see his mistake,” he smirked without thinking about it any further. 

Daenerys frowned. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

He returned her gaze, just as confused as she was and then he realized what he had just said. Actually said. 

“We should get some rest…,” he muttered and turned to go to Rhaegal but a small hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Tell me, what you mean by that!” 

She stared into his eyes, demanding. 

He tried to swallow the lump that was stuck in his throat, clenching his teeth. 

“I… I didn’t know…” 

He raised his shoulders protectively and became quieter with every word. “I thought he’d told you.” 

“What? What should he have told me?” 

Dany's voice was hoarse and she didn't really seem to want to know the answer. 

“He…” 

He broke up, fearing her reaction. 

“He helped me to escape.” 

He waited for her to go totally mad and sic Drogon on him, but she just turned away... and stormed off. Jorah was so surprised that, as so often, he didn't know what to do at first. He didn't know at second either. 

"Wait! Where are you going?" 

She turned around one last time and hissed: "Away from traitors like you and Daario! So, don't you dare follow me!" 

Had he not known better he would have expected her to spit fire right away. 

The force of the words struck him unshielded. 

His lips began to tremble. 

"I am sorry..." 

Daenerys returned his gaze in rage and then turned away without further comment. 

Shocked, he looked after her. 

"Daenerys..." 

The knight gave a choked wail and had the feeling of breaking into tears. He sank to his knees and could not take his eyes off the spot where she had disappeared. 

Eventually he regained his composure and dragged himself slowly to Rhaegal. At least the dragon seemed to have nothing against him. He lifted his wing slightly and let Jorah lean on him. 

He wanted to sleep, but every time his eyes closed and he almost nodded away, he tore them open again, afraid Daenerys might come back and just take off with Drogon. 

Eventually he fell asleep. 

If only that hadn't happened... 

If only he had run after Daenerys.

_Crack!_

Jorah woke up from his restless sleep. 

What was that?! 

His eyes fell on Drogon. He had moved a little in his nest of bones, breaking some of them in the process. 

Relieved, the knight sank back. 

Looking up at the sky, he thought he recognised that it was afternoon. The afternoon of the third day in the middle of the great grass sea. There was still not a shade of Daenerys. 

Disturbed by this thought as always, he nestled even closer to Rhaegal's flank. 

He hadn’t moved since the day Dany had disappeared. He had only moved away from the dragon a little once or twice, as he had gone hunting. 

What had she actually been up to? Did she want to return to Meereen? 

No... no, she just wanted to have her peace. To get upset about Daario and him... 

Damn, he had to find her. Hopefully nothing had happened to her! 

His feeling told him that something was wrong... but maybe that was just the feeling of terrible thirst. Not to mention his hunger. 

His dreams tortured him with images that he just couldn't get out of his head and finally he couldn't stand it anymore. 

Jorah stretched carefully and stood up. 

His muscles were stiff and the first steps he took were uncertain, as if he had never walked before. He took a last look at the dragons that were still sleeping and followed the path where Dany had disappeared. 

The dragon's nest was on a mountain and the path was quite steep and sometimes small rocks blocked it. Arriving at the foot of the mountain, he found himself in the middle of a sea of grass. It whispered in the wind and nearby he heard water lapping. 

Otherwise, complete silence. 

Eerie... 

Daenerys had certainly followed the lapping. So, he did it too. 

He pushed huge blades of grass aside and after a few minutes he came to the water. The stream was not big, more like a trickle, but it didn't matter. 

Quickly he knelt down, formed a bowl with his hands, scooped some water and brought it to his mouth. Never had anything felt as refreshing as this water did now. 

He washed his face, then he looked around more closely. 

He found footprints in the mud where he was kneeling. Probably they were Daenerys'... if not, they were both in trouble. 

Jorah picked himself up and set off to follow the tracks. 

_Traitor!_

"What?!", he gasped, shocked, and looked around. 

But there was nobody there. 

That had surely been Dany's voice!

_I trusted you..._

He began to turn around himself. 

"Who's there?" 

No answer. 

Unsure, he looked around again and started stumbling, then running. He was sure it was just his imagination... the wind... that's what it was. 

_I would have forgiven you!_

His heart seemed to go crazy. 

This wasn’t just the wind! 

_You think it was easy for me to send you away?_

It was so real. 

_I loved you too._

He had to go. 

He had to go! 

He looked up and hoped that the top of the mountain would stick out somewhere above the grass. But he couldn’t see it anywhere. 

"No..." he murmured and became more frantic. 

Where was he? 

He could follow his own tracks in the mud to get back! 

He looked at the ground.... There was no more a stream. 

What on earth was going on here? Was he still dreaming? 

No. No, he was definitely awake! 

_Jorah!_

He jerked back when he looked behind and recognized Daenerys. One moment she seemed fine, the next she was covered in blood and her dress torn to shreds. 

_Help me!_

"Daenerys...", he just said. 

Wind came up and it was like it blew her away and suddenly she was gone. 

"No...! Daenerys!" 

He had to find her! 

Without thinking about his actions any further, he ran in the direction the wind had carried her. Grass slapped against his body, leaving red welts on his face. 

He kept running. 

"Daenerys!" 

He stumbled over his own feet, but staggered on. 

"Daenerys!” 

Jorah didn't remember how long he had been running, but at some point, he became slower and slower and finally came to a halt, panting. 

He had hit a path! 

He saw it up and down ... nobody. 

He let out a long and angry Aaaaarrggghhh and would have liked to hit something... 

Then suddenly he heard the clatter of hooves in the distance. He quickly disappeared into the grass again. He recognised two horses... but only one rider. 

They came closer and closer, and when they were only a few metres away, Jorah's eyes widened in disbelief. 

They galloped past him. 

"Daario!" 

He stumbled out of his hiding place and stood in the middle of the path. 

"Daario!" 

The horses slowed and the sellsword looked back. When he saw Jorah, his eyes widened too. 

"Andal..." 

The knight couldn't believe it and went to him. 

"I never thought I'd find you here..." 

"Actually, I found you," Jorah replied. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Looking for the two of you. Daenerys is still the Queen of Meereen," declared the Stormcrow and looked around. 

"Where is she?" 

The exiled swallowed. 

"Gone... I don't know where she went, but I have a feeling it didn't end well." 

Daario nodded and asked no further questions for the moment. 

He pointed to the second horse. 

"Jump on... we must find our queen." 

Jorah couldn't help smiling, unravelling the rope from Daario's saddle and mounted the horse. 

He was so happy to have found Daario. He was the only one who treated him as usual. As if nothing had ever happened. 

"I just won't ask what happened to you..." the sellsword muttered and let his horse trot. 

Jorah did the same. 

"Why? What's the matter with me?" 

"Your face... and... did you eat mud?" 

Now that his friend said it, he noticed the unpleasant feeling in his mouth. It was like he had poured a whole load of sand into his mouth. 

"I... don't know", he confessed in disgust and tried to spit out all the little grains. 

He had drunk water after all! 

When had the mud got into his mouth? Had he only imagined the stream? 

No... no. He was not crazy! At least not in that way... was he? 

Had he really put mud in his mouth and thought it was water? 

Confused, Jorah shook his head and asked, "Why are you travelling alone? I expected at least two men... if not a whole patrol." 

"It should have been two... But I didn't like that Unsullied..." 

"You don't like any Unsullied," smiled the knight and his friend pulled up his shoulders apologetically. 

"What to do about it? They really do not understand any kind of humour! I once told Grey Worm a joke... big mistake." 

"Yes, you could have saved that breath of yours. But tell me, what happened to the soldier who accompanied you," he asked, already having a hunch. 

"Well... I may or may not have waited until he fell asleep and then just taken off... with both horses... Don't worry, I left him enough supplies so that he could walk back to Meereen," the Stormcrow added when he saw the slightly bewildered look of the exiled. 

"And how have things been going for you? Seems you haven't had much luck hunting..." 

"Don't ask..." Jorah grumbled and turned his gaze back to the path. 

But Daario did not let up. 

"Why? What happened? You saved her life!" 

"And told her about how you helped me... She called us both damned traitors..." 

"Oh..." 

A depressed silence followed. 

"Well, at the moment it looks like the damn traitors are her only hope," joked the sellsword. 

The knight did not react. 

"Oh, come on, Andal! We'll find her!"

The next day they came across a small footpath leading away from the actual path, which must have been used by a whole horde only recently. They followed it and soon found themselves in a huge clearing. The ground was muddy and there were thousands of hoof prints imprinted in it. 

"What... is this place?" Daario asked with big eyes and looked at the furrows. 

Then Jorah also recognized what he meant. 

The tracks formed a circle... as if they had encircled something. Or somebody. 

"Those could also be traces of a hunt...", said the sellsword, who knew exactly what his friend was thinking. 

"Could be...", he replied and jumped off his horse to have a closer look at the tracks. 

They already were a bit older... maybe two days. 

He stomped through the mud towards the spot that had been encircled. 

He paused and shakily expelled his breath. 

Slowly he knelt down and looked at the peach stone, which was already beginning to decompose. It was still strung on the leather strap. 

Carefully he lifted the necklace.

"They have her..."


	32. lost in the great grass sea

As soon as she was sure that Jorah didn’t see her anymore, she started to run. Sobbing, she stumbled over the stones that lay all over the steep path. 

Of course, she was glad Daario hadn't killed him! 

Her problem was that he had lied to her and she had believed every word he said without thinking about it. 

She was so stupid! So naive! 

She should have learned from Jorah's betrayal! 

How many more did have to betray her before she finally understood? 

She couldn't trust anyone! No one! 

The only person she could count on was herself and if she remained that stupid, she couldn't even trust herself. 

She arrived at the foot of the mountain and found herself in front of a wall of grass. Disoriented, she looked around and just staggered in some direction. 

Angry at herself, she tried to wipe away her tears, but there were more and more coming. 

Eventually she stepped on her own foot and fell. She tried to get up again, but she barely managed to sit up when she was hit by another wave of anger and sadness. 

She buried her face in her shaky hands. 

_Daenerys!_

She ignored him. 

_Daenerys…_

She had told him to leave her alone! 

"Go away..." she whispered, sobbing. 

But when she looked back, there was nothing but grass. 

Confused she sniffed and managed to get up after all. 

"Jorah?" 

No answer. 

Suddenly she noticed something else. The lapping of water. 

On unsteady legs she groped in the direction the sound seemed to come from. 

_Please... I'm sorry._

She spun around, only seeing grass again. 

_Kill me or forgive me!_

"No..." 

She suddenly slipped in mud – followed by an outcry – and landed on the ground. 

The lapping had ceased. 

Full of mud she picked herself up again. 

Suddenly she realised that she was standing in water. A stream... 

She blinked a few times and was standing in mud again. Confused and afraid she tripped backwards and started running. 

_You should have forgiven me! Look what I have become!_

She covered her ears, but the voice seemed to be in her head. 

_You have ruined my life! You destroyed my dreams!_

She ran on. 

Tried to become even faster. 

She just had to get out of here! 

_Daenerys! Daenerys, please!_

She couldn't stand it anymore and stopped. 

"What was I supposed to do?!" 

Her voice was fragile and husky at the same time. 

"I don't need any more traitors at my side!" 

_But you need me! You need me as I need you!_

"No!" 

That was not true. 

She did just fine without him. 

Her whole life would be easier without him! 

_You need me!_

"No!" 

She didn't want to admit it! 

"I hate you!” 

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and closed her eyes. 

Images of their first kiss appeared in her mind's eye. It had been years ago... but she still remembered his bright eyes and the tickling in the air just before their lips met. She remembered his arms around her and- 

No! 

She ran again. 

What was wrong with her? Why... did all this happen?! 

Images of another evening came up. 

They were in a tent... it was shortly after they had taken over Astapor. 

_Would my Khaleesi perhaps like me to lie down with her?_

"No!" she gasped. 

And another evening. 

_Will you marry me?_

She gave in. 

She couldn't take it any longer. 

She didn't want to. 

"Yes..." 

_Yes?_

She collapsed. 

In front of her she saw his happy, radiant and at the same time incredulous face. 

"Yes…”

Daenerys got startled by hooves hitting the ground. 

Her dishevelled hair stuck all over her face and blocked her view. Dazed by her confused dreams, she picked herself up. 

She had collapsed in the middle of nowhere and just fell asleep... 

She didn't know whether she had been lying there for a whole day or just a few hours, but her body felt as if it hadn't moved a muscle for years. 

Stiff, she tried to take a few steps and found she had sore muscles. 

She made a grimace. 

Damn... 

Again, she heard hooves hitting the ground, making it vibrate. 

Could it be that this was a soldier from Meereen? Or maybe a whole patrol? 

Without thinking about it, she ran towards the sound. If she had been in her right mind, she would have known that a small group of soldiers would not make the ground vibrate... 

She hit a path and when she heard the yelling, she knew this was a big mistake. 

Dothraki. 

And there they came... 

She quickly turned away and ran as fast as she could despite her dizziness. Between the grass she had the best chance to escape them, so she rushed off the pathway and cut a track with her arms. 

She heard the screams again and this time much closer. 

She did not dare to turn around. 

The grass cleared and she stormed into a clearing. 

Before she could run any further, there were horses all around her. 

On their backs were the riders she was right to be afraid of.

_Bang!_

Daenerys flinched. 

That bloody whip! 

They would be pay for this... all of them! 

Her lips pressed together, she walked with all the pride she had left beside the horse she was tied to. The rider was talking to someone else, but she wasn’t listening to them. 

Her thoughts were with Jorah. 

It had become clearer every day that she really needed him... 

She had remembered something thanks to the cursed voice that had haunted her even in her dreams. The day she had crouched with Jorah under the table on his patio, under fire from a harpy, he had said something... 

He had apologised... but before he could tell her what for, she had interrupted him. 

He had wanted to tell her! 

Her lips started trembling. 

He had wanted to tell her and she had not let him finish! 

And then banished... 

She missed him so much. 

His touch... the safety she had always felt when she was with him... his smile... the trust she could put in him without hesitation. She missed Jorah Mormont more than anything else. 

She still hadn't given up hope that there was a spark of his old spirit in his body left. 

She wanted everything back to the way it used to be. She would give anything for that. 

She blinked and realized they had arrived at a camp. 

The Dothraki with the whip jumped off his horse, tied the rope with which her hands were bound from the saddle and led her to a small lake. There she was pushed to the ground to wait. For what, she didn’t know. Nor did she look around to see if someone was guarding her. Because even if they weren't, she couldn't have escaped unnoticed. 

After a while she was grabbed roughly by the arm and led to the heart of the camp, where she suspected the Khal. And she was right. 

Khal Moro... that was what they had called him. 

She was led in front of him and then just left there. Like a mare to be examined for what she was good for. 

Well, she would show them... 

"Once the dirt's washed away, she won't look too bad..." 

"Enough to fuck," laughed one of the Kos. 

Moro smiled at it. 

"She has silver hair! That means she's a witch," hissed one of the women snuggling up to one of the Kos. 

"It is known," replied another, looking at Daenerys delicately. 

The Khal then just laughed and strolled around his prisoner. 

"I think you are right to be jealous..." 

Dany hadn't said a word until now, but the snide talk was too much to take. When Moro tried to tear her dress open to expose her breasts, it finally hit the top. 

"Don't touch me! I'm not a damn whore," she growled and stared angrily into the eyes of the man who was now facing her. 

Everyone was visibly surprised that she spoke their language. 

"You are my prisoner ... and if I say you are a whore, then you are a whore. Understood?" 

She snorted, wanting to spit in his face. 

"I am Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the first of her name, Unburned, Queen of Meereen, the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of chains and Mother of Dragons." 

There was a brief silence. 

Then Moro laughed again and all the others present laughed with him. Except the women, they were still annoyed. 

Daenerys swallowed... 

She had hoped for a different reaction. 

"Do you think these titles would mean anything to us even if they were really yours?" the Khal growled into her ear after getting a little too close. 

"You are my whore and you will spend this night with me. If you're lucky, I like you and I'll keep you... if not...” 

He turned to his blood riders and Kos. 

"I will not..." she replied and tried to make her voice sound as unmoved as possible. 

Of course, she couldn't fight the Khal alone... without her dragons or... or her bear, she was at the mercy of the Dothraki. 

She still had one wild card to play and that had to work. 

"I am loyal to my husband... Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo." 

Moro's eyes widened a little and he took a step back. 

"Khal Drogo is dead." 

"I know. I burned his body." 

The man lowered his head. 

"Forgive me. I did not know." 

He turned away. 

"It is forbidden to sleep with the widow of a Khal. No one will touch you." 

He pulled out his dagger, went back to her and cut her bonds. 

"You have my word." 

Her relief made her foolish. 

"Bring me back to Meereen and I will reward all the Khalasar. Horses, gold, steel. Anything." 

The Khal looked at her strangely. 

"When a Khal dies, there is only one place for his Khaleesi." 

One of the women smiled and stretched out her words with relish. 

"Vaes Dothrak. In the temple of Dosh Khaleen."


	33. i need you by my side

"Are you sure she's there?" 

Daario looked to him. 

At the sight of Vaes Dothrak, their blood had run cold. It was just a city, yes, but… there was something magical, something mystic about it. 

"Quite sure...", Jorah answered absent-mindedly. 

She could have been anywhere, but he simply had this feeling that she had been brought here. 

Daario squinted his eyes together and let his gaze wander over the sacred city. They had had to leave the horses behind long ago and now they stood here, on one of the ridges that surrounded Vaes Dothrak. 

"What do we do now? We can't just march in there, grab Daenerys and disappear again," the sellsword claimed, wiping sweat from his forehead. 

The sun mercilessly burned down on them. Since days. 

The knight turned away and walked to one of the dried-out bushes. 

"Come here..." 

Daario rose an eyebrow at his words. 

"I don't want to watch you taking a piss, Andal," he grinned, but came to him after all. 

Jorah ignored it. 

"Give me your weapons." 

"What? Are you serious?!" 

"It is not permitted to carry weapons in the sacred city..." 

"They don't need to know anything about it!" 

"It's risky even without weapons, but if anyone sees you carrying a dagger, we'll be dead in an instant!" 

His friend angrily stared at him for a moment, then unfastened his weapon belt. Jorah took it and stowed it between the rock and the bush. The Stormcrow was about to turn away and set off, but the Knight stopped him. 

"Can you imagine that by all weapons I mean all weapons?" 

Daario moaned annoyed and pulled out his dagger. 

Demanding, the exiled stretched out his arm. His left one. 

The sellsword was about to give him the weapon after long hesitation, but he paused when he saw the skin of his opponent. Jorah's tattered, golden-yellow, almost brown shirt did not hide his entire forearm. When he noticed this, he quickly pulled it back. 

"Don't worry... I didn't touch anyone with it." 

His friend nodded slowly. 

"You know the consequences? You know what this means?" 

Now it was the knight who nodded. 

For the first time in his whole life he saw Daario worried. 

He lifted his dagger slightly. 

"I'll do it myself... go ahead." 

Jorah couldn’t disagree and turned away brooding. 

Of course, he knew what this meant and what consequences it had! He would not be able to serve Daenerys for much longer. His mind already seemed to be suffering from it, what would it look like in a few weeks’ time? 

He shook his head to concentrate on the essentials again. 

Where exactly was Daenerys and how would they free her? 

His heart was racing. 

He didn’t understand how Daario could be so calm. The sellsword strolled along beside the knight with a smile. 

All around them they were dancing, singing and fucking. 

"Should have been born a Dothraki...", his friend murmured, but Jorah hardly noticed. 

He looked around worried, trapped in his own world. His thoughts were with Daenerys and at the same time he concentrated on every movement from the shadows of the streets. 

"Daario, we are too conspicuous," he growled and looked around once more. 

The revellers were not his problem... much more those who stood beside and watched the action. 

"You mean you are conspicuous. Andal, you need to relax." 

"That's easy for you to say..." 

"Why? Daenerys is also my queen. In her eyes, I'm a traitor too... well, she hasn't banished me yet, but she also hasn’t had the opportunity..." 

"Goddammit, Daario! Why don’t you understand that she is so much more to me than just my queen," he hissed, his hand closing around his friend’s neck. But only one hand... he didn’t want to infect him after all. 

His friend raised his eyebrows in surprise and put his own hand on the one around his neck. 

"All right. I know she's more to you." 

The knight swallowed, then let go. 

"I'm sorry..." he murmured in shame and wanted to continue. 

He noticed two men in the shadows, looking at them. 

Were they following them? 

"We have to get out of here", he hissed and hurried as slowly as he could to the next smaller alley. 

It was not supposed to look like they were running. The Stormcrow followed him. 

"What's wrong?" 

"We're being followed," replied the exiled and peeked back into the street. 

The taller of the two nodded to the other and they approached the alley. 

"Damn...", Jorah breathed, starting to panic. 

"Come on! We have to get out of here!" 

Before Daario could say anything back, he started running. He looked back when he reached a corner, saw that the sellsword was following him and kept on running. 

His lungs began to burn, not to mention his heart. 

"I think we escaped them," he gasped and slowed down. 

The Stormcrow didn’t answer, just stared past him. As the knight followed his gaze, he saw the two Dothraki just emerging from another alley. 

If his mouth hadn’t been so dry, he would have tried to swallow down that lump in his throat. 

Daario regained his composure and sauntered towards the other men with that typical smile on his face. 

"A wonderful evening, my friends! May I ask for your help?" 

The Dothraki didn't understand a single word. 

Jorah took one last deep breath and joined his friend. 

"Can you show us the way to the Eastern Market? We wanted to have a look around and now we can't find our way back." 

His Dothraki didn’t sound as good as it once did but they got what he meant. 

"Who are you?" growled the smaller one suspiciously, who was about as tall as the knight. 

"Merchants. Wine merchants." 

For a moment there was a loaded silence in which Daario gave him a look that clearly said: "I have no idea what you're talking about, but it sucks." 

"Um... If you take us back, you're welcome to a barrel. Finest Arbor gold," Jorah smiled forcibly and noticed from the corner of his eye how his friend shook his head barely noticeably. 

As soon as he saw the looks of the Dothraki, he knew they both were screwed. 

"Get the others!" growled the big one. 

The small one turned away and ran off. 

Daario realised in a split second what was going on and rushed after him. 

Jorah directed his gaze at the giant. 

Great... How was he supposed to knock this rock of a man out? 

Without warning, the man lunged at him and he could only just swerve. 

Damn it! 

How could he defeat that brute without his daggers or sword? On top of that, all his wounds burned as if he had been dipped in oil and set on fire! 

Jorah couldn't attack because he didn't know an attack that the other one couldn't easily fend off, so he remained on the defensive. 

The giant reached out with his arm to knock him out with a haymaker, but he managed to stop the blow. However, he did not see the knee coming and gasped miserably for air as it hit the pit of his stomach. 

He felt himself being grabbed and shortly afterwards he crashed with his whole body against a wall. Motionless, he fell to the ground and remained lying there. 

He would have liked best to drift away into the blackness that surrounded him, but he gritted his teeth and remained conscious. 

Immediately he felt a foot kick into his ribs. 

He gasped in pain, but made no other sound. 

He managed to grab a handful of sand and did something that he would only do in the most necessary situations. He threw the dirt in his opponent's face. But he had closed his eyes in time. 

Oh, come on! 

Before Jorah could say anything else, two hands wrapped around his neck, making him unable to breath. 

He wanted to kick or bite. No matter what! But he could not move. 

He was wheezing and felt himself getting dizzy. 

Should this actually be the end of him? This?! 

He heard the sound of steel piercing through cloth and flesh and suddenly a thin point peered out of the Dothraki's chest. 

Well, that was probably a no. 

The grip around his neck loosened and he gasped in relief. Still fighting for breath, he looked up and recognised Daario, who was wiping the blade of his dagger on his victim's clothing. 

"I told you...", he started in a hoarse voice, but his friend interrupted him. 

"You're welcome."

Jorah barely dared to breathe as he peered through the bushes and waited for Daenerys to come by with one of the Dosh Khaleen. Daario crouched down next to him and prepared to pounce on the other woman so she couldn’t call for help. 

"They say you are the Mother of Dragons ... is it true?" asked the stranger and the knight could have sworn that Dany was smiling just now. 

"It is true." 

"How many? What are their names?" 

"There are three. Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal ... if we're lucky, they'll find us one day." 

Before the other could reply, the sellsword leapt behind her and held his dagger at her throat. 

Jorah had followed him and now found himself facing a frightened but unharmed Daenerys. 

"Khaleesi... We must leave!" 

His heart was pounding and adrenaline was pumping through his veins with every beat. 

They had to go! Now! 

It wouldn't be long before the bodies of the two Dothraki were found. 

The other woman whimpered softly. Daenerys looked back at her and said "Daario, let her go...!" 

The Storm Crow looked at Jorah who was still looking at Dany. 

"Khaleesi, if she betrays us-" 

"She will not," she interrupted him. 

"You won't betray me, will you?" 

The other shook her head with eyes wide open and after short hesitation Daario released her. 

Daenerys looked at Jorah again. 

"What are you two doing here?"

She almost sounded reproachful. 

"Helping you to escape so you’ll hopefully forgive us, Your Grace," the sellsword explained casually and looked over his shoulder. 

"If we don't get away from here, they'll kill us all," growled the knight. 

Why didn't she just come along? 

"I cannot leave. Not yet." 

"But-." 

"You can help me." 

Her eyes were gleaming dangerously in the dark. 

"What are you going to do?" he managed to ask. 

"I think it's time for the Dothraki to accepted a woman as their leader..." 

"What if it doesn't work?" 

"Then we're clearly screwed.” 

"That was not helpful." 

"Wasn't supposed to be." 

Annoyed, Jorah turned to his friend. 

"You know, that-" 

"Yes, I do." 

Daario smirked and turned back to the temple of the Dosh Khaleen. 

"Come on, Andal... have a little faith in your queen." 

He closed his eyes to gather himself and then opened them again. 

_I beg you to have at least a little faith in me._

Before him was the pyre of Drogo... just as the flames reached the inside and when he closed his eyes and opened them again, the pyre had disappeared and been replaced by the burning temple. 

He gasped for breath and saw Daario standing at the edge of his field of vision with his mouth open as well. 

The fire grew bigger and bigger and angry Dothraki came out of every alley and house. They undoubtedly could not stop the plan now. 

But where was Daenerys? 

The fire had eaten away the wooden door and parts of the dome-shaped roof began to break away. It seemed to take another eternity until finally a small figure appeared amidst the flames. At first no more than a silhouette, then its outlines became clearer and Jorah could not help but smile as she stood on the steps in front of the temple. 

He could not see the eyes of the Dothraki, but he was sure they were staring at her with big eyes. At least that was the case with the Stormcrow. 

Slowly the knight stepped out of the shadow of the house... 

The assembled Dothraki just sank to their knees to bow to Daenerys. 

The sight was... breath taking. 

The fire still burned and illuminated the night like a little sun that had fallen on earth. The otherwise terrifying Dothraki cowered in awe of the fire and the woman standing in front of it. The knight and the sellsword carefully made their way to her. 

Once in the first row of humans, Daario sank to his knees... and shortly after that, Jorah also went down. 

_Blood of my blood..._

His thoughts were again with the birth of the dragon and when he looked up, he was surprised that no small dragons nestled up against Daenerys, but that she stood alone and unburned before him.

He didn’t know what to say. The wheels in his head were working at full speed, but nothing was getting through to him. Even Daario had run out of bad jokes and comments. 

They stood on a plain near Vaes Dothrak, waiting for Daenerys to tell them what to do. 

"Daario... why did you help Ser Jorah?" she finally asked and turned to the Stormcrow. 

He seemed surprised that he got it first. 

"Well... he convinced me of his innocence. If I had given him to the Unsullied, they would have killed him." 

"Why didn't you just tell them he was innocent?" 

"Your orders were to kill him. I could not have changed that with words." 

Jorah's eyes wavered between the two of them, hoping that his friend would not say anything stupid. 

The queen took a step closer to him. 

"You could have at least told me." 

The sellsword lowered his eyes apologetically. 

"I know and I hope you can forgive me for this..." 

"I understand... and I forgive you", she said and managed a little smile. 

Daario dropped his shoulder in relief and let his gold tooth flash. The knight was also happy for his friend, but his joy disappeared when Daenerys turned to him. 

She too was not quite sure of herself and what to do now. 

“I banished you twice… you came back twice…” 

She took a step closer to him. 

“And you saved my life.” 

She blinked a few times and continued. 

“So, I can’t forgive you and I can’t take you back.” 

He was calmed down by her words for some reason and he had to smile sadly... 

He had known all along. She could never take him back... not even if she forgave him. 

“You have to send me away.” 

He swallowed and stretched out his left arm. Carefully he pulled back the shirt sleeve. 

Daenerys gasped for breath. 

Jorah could not look her in the eyes. He was ashamed... 

“Is there a cure?” she asked, her voice hoarse. 

When she wanted to close the distance between them, he backed off. He didn’t want to put her in danger. 

“I don’t know.” 

When he finally looked up again, he saw a tear running down her cheek. 

“How long does it take?” 

“I don’t know that either… but I will stop it myself if need be,” he murmured and covered his arm again. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” 

Her voice broke. 

“No… Don’t be”, he said, and would have loved to go to her... 

He had to get away from here before he couldn't stand it anymore. 

“Khaleesi, I… All I ever wanted was to serve you.” 

She slightly shook her head, suppressing her sobbing. 

Jorah tried to calm down and clenched his hands into fists. 

“You know… that I love you. I will always love you. For that I have to go.” 

Her tears made it almost impossible for him to leave, but he overcame himself to turn. 

“No… No, please…” 

She tried to run after him, but Daario stopped her. 

“Jorah!” 

His heart ache but he ignored it. 

“I command you to stop!” 

He clenched his teeth and stopped to look back at her. 

Why did she make it so hard for him? 

“Jorah… I beg you… find a cure. Find a cure and then return to me! When I take the Seven Kingdoms, I need you by my side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to make this as painful as possible and I actually cried while writing and correcting this xD SO DRAMATIC GODDAMMIT! Well, a good final for part 4 in my opinion.   
> Some of you might wonder now "Damn this was so good, when is she going to post the next chapter?" (I doubt that anyone thinks that but it has a nice ring to me and makes me feel better) and ... uh... the answer to that question is: I don't know. Maybe next weekend. I still have to translate part 5 xD


	34. the citadel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pondering over whether I should or should not write a chapter about how Jorah gets here but I came to the conclusion that it would be kinda unnecessary... so... well, you can see it on the chapter's title where we are at this moment.

Where was he? How had he got here? What... what was he doing here? Why was he still alive? 

Daenerys! 

Jorah sat up, staring into pitched darkness. 

No! He couldn’t fall into this hole again! 

She had said she needed him... He had to pull himself together! For her! 

He gritted his teeth... His whole left upper body hurt. 

He wouldn't make it... he wouldn't see Daenerys ever again... he couldn't keep his oath. 

No! He had to stop! 

His hands found their way to his head and buried themselves in his hair... They had cut it to keep him clean. But that was useless now anyway. 

No. No, he could do it! 

As long as Daenerys believed in him, he could do it. He had to... he couldn't let her down. Not again. 

He startled, as he heard a barrow clattering. Slowly Jorah rose and approached the hatch in the door through which some light fell into his cell. 

The sound died down and then started again... the barrow came closer and closer. The knight had heard this happen several times before. A boy collected the food bowls... surely, he could tell him if there was news about Daenerys. He had to know! 

The boy was already at his cell and took the bowl. Jorah quickly reached through the hatch and grabbed it himself. 

He heard a surprized squeak and a clang as the bowl fell to the ground. 

"Has she come yet?" Jorah asked before the boy could disappear. 

"Please... tell me if she has come yet." 

"Who?", sounded the shaky voice on the other side of the door. 

He had to smile. 

Wasn't it obvious? 

"The Dragon Queen. Daenerys Stormborn." 

There was a brief silence, then, "I-I didn't hear anything. N-no." 

Jorah swallowed... 

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? 

It could mean there was trouble in the Meereen. And he wasn't with her. 

He gave a growl and banged angrily on the door. But it brought nothing but pain in his hand. 

How was he supposed to stand it in here when she was out there somewhere and clearly not making any progress? 

Exhausted by nothing, he plopped back down on his bed. 

Did Dany even expect him to come back to her? Or had she already resigned herself to the fact that she would never see him again? 

He sat up a little more upright again. 

Had he screwed it up? Had he managed to ruin this relationship too? 

His mouth opened slowly... 

He hadn't thought of that yet! What would they be anyway if he came back? 

She would become queen of the Seven Kingdoms and he would be her knight at best. She would marry some powerful lord to form alliances with him at her side. As advisor and friend. 

He had once sworn to be there for her at all times. No matter what. 

He swallowed his grief and dared to hope that she would wait for him. Of course, that was foolish. 

She couldn't even if she wanted to. Not anymore, at least...

Grey... grey. Grey. Everything in this cell was grey. 

The ceiling, the wall, the floor, the mattress on which he lay... even he was grey. At least parts of his skin. 

Why had he had to safe Tyrion? Why had he had to drag him to Daenerys? 

He sighed and was about to close his eyes when there was a knock at the door, metal rattling - probably the keys - and then the cell was unlocked. A maester, who had seen him many times before, came in, followed by a boy... a rather fat boy. He didn't seem to know what he was doing here himself. 

The maester approached the knight with a staff... the prodding staff, that’s how the knight had named it. 

"Control - take off your shirt, please." 

Jorah, who had expected at least a greeting, swallowed his prepared reply, stood up and unlaced his beloved golden-yellow shirt, which was now rather brown. 

When he dropped it on his bed and the boy saw his upper body, he gasped for breath. The exiled himself was a little surprised... It hadn't been this bad last time, he was sure. 

Only the maester didn't seem impressed and went around him a few times. Each time he stretched out his staff, Jorah automatically tensed his muscles and had to pull himself together not to groan. 

Finally, the old man was finished and took some notes. 

"You should have cut your hand off when it would have prevented a widespread infection..." 

Jorah didn't answer... If he had known it would do any good, he would have done it. Of course, he would have. 

Wordlessly he put his shirt back on, but didn't bother to lace it up. He had not intended to listen to the two men talking, but he looked up at the boy's words. 

"I met Stannis' daughter at Castle Black. She was infected too, but it was cured... could it be cured in this case?” 

"Does this man look like an infant to you?” 

He struggled for words. 

"No... But I have seen in one of the works of-" 

"If there was a safe way to cure him, we would, Samwell." 

After that, the boy fell silent. 

The Maester turned to the exiled again. 

"You can stay in this cell until tomorrow, then you must vacate it. What you do during that time is entirely up to you.” 

His gaze fell on the dagger that lay on the night table. Jorah followed it with his eyes and his mouth dropped open... 

He didn’t know why he was surprised, but the citadel had been his last hope. If he could not be helped here... 

"How... how much longer?" he stammered, not actually wanting to know the answer. 

"Oh, it varies... probably two or three years." 

"I meant, how long before I...” 

"Your mind? A few months." 

He nodded slightly because he couldn't form words. 

Not that he wasn't crazy already, but at least he still had human thoughts and was not completely addicted to madness. 

The old man had already left the cell again, but the boy was still here. 

"Would you like to write a letter to your family, Ser...?" 

"Jorah", the knight smiled sadly. 

It must have been months since anyone had said his name. 

"Jorah Mormont." 

Samwell blinked surprised. 

"Mormont?" 

"I've been dead to my family for years. I sure as seven hells am not going to waste ink on them." 

It was a joke, but he sounded way too bitter. 

The boy didn't seem to know what to do. 

"Well... all right. In case you change your mind... I'll leave you the parchment and pen."

Well, he had changed his mind since he had come to the conclusion that Daenerys Targaryen surely was sort of a family to him. She was what came family nearest. 

So, he had started. 

_Khaleesi…_ Khaleesi what? What did he want say? 

_I guess you already have given up your hopes for me to ever return and well, yea, you’re right. I’m screwed. Good luck conquering Westeros. Forever yours, Jorah Mormont._

Didn’t that sound amazing? 

Exhausted, he lowered the feather to rest his chin on the back of his hand. 

_Khaleesi, I came to the Citadel in the last hope that the maesters could treat me, as you ordered. Even with all their arts, I am beyond any cure but the grave. I have had a longer life than I deserved, and I only wish I could’ve lived to see the world you’re going to build, standing by your side._

He stopped, then: _I have loved you since the moment I met you._

He stared at the letter and dipped the feather into the small barrel again. He was about to start up again when he heard a barrow rattling in the corridor, whereupon the door opened. 

Surprised, he looked over his shoulder to find Samwell entering the cell, and stood up, immediately. 

"Hello," he muttered and turned to the barrow. 

"What are you doing?", the knight asked, watching his counterpart suspiciously. 

“You’re Jorah Mormont, the only son of Jeor Mormont.“ 

He stopped rummaging around for a moment and continued, turning to Jorah. 

“My name is Samwell Tarly, sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, training to serve as maester at Castle Black. I knew your father… I was with him when he died.” 

The knight blinked perplexed. 

“You’re not dying today, Ser Jorah.” 

Was he serious? It did indeed sound like a promise. 

Samwell turned away again and handed him a bottle. 

“Drink this.” 

“What is it?” Jorah responded still somewhat unsure. 

“Rum. Drink it all, please, I’m afraid this is going to hurt,” Sam answered. 

Reluctantly he started drinking. The potion burned, but he had missed this kind of burning. 

The boy grabbed a huge book and placed it on the table, turned the pages a little and read a few lines each time. 

"If you could take off your shirt…" 

Then he scurried back to the cart and pulled out a leather strap. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, bite down hard.” 

Jorah accepted the leather. 

Sam looked at his upper body, at first slightly shocked and then apologetically, when it seemed to become clear to him what it meant. 

“I’m sorry, but no one knows I’m here, and if they hear you screaming then we’re both finished.” 

He laughed shyly and went back to his book. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Jorah asked, regretting it instantly. 

“No.” 

Samwell nevertheless seemed confident in his case. 

“But no one else will try, so I’m the best you’ve got.” 

He took two of his small tools in his hand, one was a kind of tweezers and the other a scalpel. Jorah eyed the objects critically... That really didn't look pleasant. 

“Please, have seat.” 

Jorah did as he was told and enclosed the leather with his teeth. 

Tense he waited for the boy to start. 

“I’m going to have to remove the entire upper layer, of infected tissue, then apply a medical ointment to the-.” 

He broke off when the knight gave him a look. 

He should finally start, seven hells! 

Samwell swallowed and grabbed one of the scales with his tweezers to pull it away from the body a little. 

Jorah crouched in shock and felt like he was about to bite through the leather. The pain had hit him unexpectedly. 

Damn, how was he supposed to get through this? 

"Shhhh!", the boy hissed insistently. 

“Again, I’m sorry, but please try not to scream.” 

The exiled briefly closed his eyes to take hold and opened them again with renewed confidence. 

There was a chance to survive this. He could keep his promise to Daenerys. 

He just nodded and clenched his teeth. 

Samwell hesitated and then quick and unfortunately not sweet removed the first skin plate. 

Jorah's choked cry and pitiful growl must have been unbearable for the boy, but he continued. 

"It's best to concentrate on something other than the presence and its pain," he murmured after a while. The knight had tears in his eyes and he tried to follow the order... 

Of course, he thought of Daenerys first. And it actually became more bearable. 

"This is... remarkable. It's as if the scales had been removed with a knife and the skin treated with ointment," muttered Archmaester Ebros and tapped Jorah with this nudge stick. 

"And that doesn't hurt?" 

"I feel a slight tug, but it's not nearly as bad as a few days ago... or yesterday," he replied, glancing briefly at Samwell, who was groping uncomfortably from one foot to the other in a corner of the room. 

"And you have no idea how this could have happened," the Maester replied, to which the other one shook his head. 

"I just started feeling better. I assumed it was the rest that did it… and the climate." 

And a sleepless, painful night. 

"The… climate? Very well, you may go. The chamber is needed for infected people, which you are no longer." 

The Archmaester was just leaving the room, when he turned to the boy again. 

"I want to see you in my chambers this evening, Tarly." 

Then he was gone. 

Jorah had to smile. 

"How bad is it?" 

"Well ... guess I'll find out in some hours," Sam said with a panicked laugh and turned back to the knight in front of him. 

He had just put on a fresh shirt and tied it up. 

"Listen, Samwell..." 

"Sam. Please. Just call me Sam." 

He blinked in surprise, then went on smiling. 

"All right, Sam. I... don't know how to thank you. You saved my life. Just like that. If there's anything I can do for you... just say it, and I'll try my best to help you." 

Sam thought for a second. 

"There's nothing you can do for me... unless you can do magic, but I doubt it." 

"Otherwise I wouldn't be here," the exiled replied, feeling relieved at a conversation for the first time in months, as if someone had lifted the burden that had crushed him, from his shoulders. 

"But?" he said after Sam had opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again just to close it again. 

The knight’s words must have made him feel a little queasy. 

"Well... I mentioned yesterday that I knew your father and I was with him when he... when he died. He said something to me. About you." 

And the burden was back. 

"What was it about?" 

His voice sounded harsh and his smile was gone. 

"He said... he said he forgave you." 

Jorah's heart went down his pants. It sounded good at first, but he felt there was more to it. 

"His last wish was for you to join The Night's Watch."


	35. Dragonstone

To join the Night’s Watch… to join the Night’s Watch! 

He’d have to give up the life he just got back! He’d had to give up Daenerys… She was pretty much all that was left of his life. 

Not that he had never thought about living at the Wall, but the idea of his father, who would always look briskly over his shoulder, was certainly not a nice one. Now that he was dead... Besides, it was his last wish. 

However, he had promised his queen something and he did not intend to break that promise. Not now that he was healed and on his way to Dragonstone. 

At the port of Oldtown he had found out that the Dragon Queen had been here for a few weeks now and had already found some allies. There could not have been better news. And yet the sweet taste of happiness was salted by a breeze of discomfort. 

Why had Sam had to tell him about his father’s last wish? Couldn't he have just... not done it? 

Still, he owed the Tarly boy a lot. 

How do you pay off the debt of life? 

Not only that, Samwell had also given him some gold so he could buy a new armour. That was the first thing he had done when he had left the citadel. It was black and completely different from all the other armour he had usually wore. But he liked that. 

After all, he had changed too. 

Not only physically - he had gained some weight again, didn't look so run-down anymore and his clear, azure blue eyes were back - but also mentally. 

His head was no longer filled with thoughts of murder and revenge. 

His heart was no longer begging for Daenerys and her love, but seemed to remember past, happier times. 

He was also no longer that bitter... still a little, but not as strong as he had been the last year and that was progress. 

The only thing that remained was the scars of the past and if he wasn't careful, old wounds would open up again and let him bleed to death. However, scars disappeared with time. 

"What are you thinking about?" sounded the voice of a sailor behind him and he turned to face the man. 

Why did he ask? Was his look so agonized? 

"About the Mother of Dragons..." 

"Aye, she's scary." 

Jorah was too stunned to respond. 

Was this the impression of Daenerys that everyone here had? 

They were just anchoring at Sunspear's harbour and Jorah left the ship to look for a new one that would take him to Dragonstone, or at least near the island, when he picked up at one of the stalls that there had already been two battles between House Targaryen and Lannister. Both, at sea and on land. 

Daenerys had lost Olenna Tyrell and Asha Greyjoy with them all their forces. 

They were... they were all the allies she had had in Westeros until now! 

He turned pale, wishing he could advance faster than with these damned ships. 

Daenerys needed all the help she could get!

The next days at sea were like all seven hells combined. The wind was only moderate and he couldn't learn anything new about what was happening on land. 

Goddammit, he hated ships! 

He walked along the railing and back again. He had been doing this for hours. He just could not find any rest. 

Oh, he would have loved to jump into the water and swim to Dragonstone! 

"Why so restless, Ser?" 

Seven, bloody hells! 

Nowadays you couldn’t be restless in peace anymore, could you? 

"Perhaps because I'm in a hurry," he growled and turned back to the water. 

The sailor stood beside him. 

"As long as you are not attacked by pirates and you have enough supplies, the sea is the most beautiful place. It's quiet... you're cut off from everything... it's relaxing." 

He couldn't remember asking this man to preach a sermon about the oh-so-great sea. So, he just went "Mhm" and hoped that it was the end of the conversation. Well, this happiness was granted to him. 

"But even at sea, you are not safe from these dragons..." 

At these words the man caught his attention. 

"Why are you afraid of dragons?" 

The man laughed. 

"How can you not? They obey the daughter of the mad king and who knows what is going on in her head. To be honest, I don't understand why no one dealt with her before she and her beasts were grown." 

Well, they had, but he had always been there and he had stood in the way of the assassins. And now he was no longer with her... 

Westeros seemingly hated her. Okay, he had met two people so far who were afraid of her, but for him not to have met a single person who was taken with the queen was quite a lot. 

"But you don't even know her. What makes you think she is like her father?" 

Actually, he didn't want to talk to the man, and certainly not about how bad his Khaleesi was, but he just had to know. 

"It's in the blood. She may be harmless yet, but once she's had a great defeat, she will fly to King's Landing with her dragons and turn everything to ashes." 

Jorah didn’t say a word, so the man continued. 

"She is a stranger who thinks she has the right to rule Westeros because of her blood. She thinks she's special because she bears the name of the House Targaryen... I think it's more of a curse." 

The knight shook his head. 

That was not Daenerys. She wasn't like that at all. 

"She will have her vengeance soon enough - whether it's all of King's Landing or just the Lannisters." 

He couldn't argue with that. 

That actually did sound like her. 

The sailor looked up from the water and into his eyes. 

"Do you think she'd make a good queen then?" 

Surprised by the question, he didn't have the words to match. 

"Of course. She is... different from what many here think." 

He thought of how she preferred to free the slaves instead of going to Pentos. 

"She wants to make the world a better place... I doubt Aerys wanted that." 

"Sounds like you've met her before." 

He could've said, "Yeah, right. I was once her fiancé!" 

But he changed his mind. 

"Yes... I am a... a friend." 

"Then go tell her to behave herself or someone will have to deal with her." 

His mouth dropped open, but the man left, leaving Jorah alone. 

If Westeros and his people were a person, he'd call it a bitchy bitch. 

Agitated, he looked back at the water. 

What had the sailor meant by deal with her?

Just a little more... a little and- Yes! 

The boat hit the ground and the men around him jumped into the water to pull it ashore. He followed them to help.

As he stood up and looked around, his eyes widened. 

He had never been to Dragonstone before, but had heard a lot and everything had been understated. He only saw the gigantic castle from a distance, but he could also see the black rock from the beach, which according to myths came from hell itself. 

Still amazed, he lowered his gaze again and noticed the Dothraki coming towards them. 

The knight straightened up and walked towards them. He didn't know any of them, which must mean that they had joined Daenerys when he had been not with her. 

"I need to see the Khaleesi," he explained, fearing they would simply reject him and leave. 

"Who are you? How do you speak our language?" 

"I am an old friend," he said, hoping they would just believe him and not ask further. 

He couldn't stand standing here any longer. So near and yet so far... 

They exchanged glances for a moment and then one of them politely – as polite as Dothraki could be to a stranger - said: "We will take you to the castle and inform her.”

Jorah nodded gratefully and followed them through the front gate, which was flanked by dragonheads. 

They walked a path that seemed to consist of thousands of steps. He didn’t mind the heavy silence, it meant he had more time to admire the landscape. 

When they had just reached halfway up the steps, he heard a bloodcurdling screech somewhere above him. Any normal person would have flinched and looked around in horror, but he knew this screeching only too well. The sight of Rhaegal gliding through the air with Viserion at his side, warmed his heart. 

How big they had grown! 

Unfortunately, the dragon didn’t see him, which was understandable. He didn’t expect them to see him down there. 

"Where is Drogon?", he asked, when he couldn't find him anywhere and feared that something had happened to him during the attack on the Kingsroad. 

He had learned of it when he had been looking for a ship that would sail for Dragonstone. It hadn’t sound as if anything had happened to Daenerys or Drogon, but it could be that they were hiding something so as not to appear weakened. 

"The Black Dread? He's somewhere with the Khaleesi." 

He sighed, relieved, then realised what it meant. 

"When are they going to get back here?" 

He needed to see her right now. He couldn't wait another minute! 

The Dothraki just shrugged his shoulders. Helpful as always... 

Finally, they reached the heavy wooden gates and he was led into the throne room. The architecture of the castle was truly remarkable. Nowhere else had he seen such precise work as here. Everything seemed to be orientated towards dragons, where probably the name came from. Or was the castle so strongly oriented towards dragons because of the name? 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked around again. 

Another person had just entered the room. 

He spun around when he heard the voice. 

“Mormont?!" 

His eyes narrowed briefly as he recognised Tyrion. Then the brooch on his chest caught his eye and it cost him all his self-control not to flinch in shock. 

Him! 

Him?! 

Daenerys had appointed HIM as her hand?! 

He tried not to let his mixed feelings show, but as usual, his eyes reflected at least a shred of what he thought. Yet they did not in any way reflect his anger or sadness... just his broken heart. 

Not that he had been expecting to become her hand, but it was the closest position he could reach at her side and it was taken away from him by that bastard! 

He swallowed his feelings. 

He did not necessarily need that position... they could be close to each other either way. As friends. 

"I’d like to say that I was happy to see you too, but as I have learned from my past mistakes: Lies only lead to banishment. But of course, you know that, don’t you?" 

He remembered the day in Meereen when he was banished a second time thanks to that man. 

"Then I better won’t say that I missed you," the dwarf countered and examined him from head to toe. 

"You told me that you hadn’t been touched..." 

"I didn't want you to feel bad for me... although I’m quite sure now that you'd get more satisfaction from that thought." 

"You got it." 

"Well, it's in my nature to automatically do the opposite of what people want me to do... You wanted me to die, so I should probably thank you," Jorah said and had to smile. 

Just because the gnome was very good with words didn't mean he couldn't beat him easily. He had a few spare moments in the last weeks to think about such things. 

"To be honest, I'm glad you're still alive," Tyrion claimed and could probably not believe himself to have just said that. 

The knight raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

"Well that actually surprises me." 

"The queen would have been very sad... and I wouldn't want that." 

"Good point... Speaking of, may I talk to her now?" 

He had to admit that it was somewhat entertaining to talk to the dwarf, but he didn't want to stall any longer, he wanted to go to her! He wanted to see her reaction! 

Again, another person entered the room, attracted by the voices and gasped in shock when she saw the knight. 

"Ser Jorah!"

He smiled as he recognised Missandei. 

She had changed! How old was she now? 20 years? 

"Missandei!" 

"You're... you're back!” 

"Yes, safe and sound. However, I'd like to postpone the welcome ceremony, as the Queen doesn't even know I'm here." 

The scribe's face darkened a bit and she looked down. 

What was that about? Why... had she looked like that at the mention of Daenerys? 

"Is... she not well? O-or is she busy? In that case, of course I can wait." 

No, he couldn't, but it didn't matter. 

"No, she's fine and she's not busy with anything important." 

Tyrion gave her an amused look, which Jorah didn't understand. 

"Why? Where is she?" 

"I saw Drogon land earlier... I think she's with him." 

It sounded as if she wanted to add something, but then changed her mind. 

"Please take Ser Jorah to the queen," the dwarf said to the Dothraki. 

One of them seemed to understand and translated roughly. The others nodded and then waved to him. He took one last look at the scribe and the gnome, then joined them. 

They led him onto one of the grass-covered rocks and he just saw Drogon rise back into the air again. This had to mean that they would meet her halfway. 

His heart started beating a little faster and he had to pull himself together not to rush past the Dothraki in front of him. The wind made his coat flutter and ruffled his hair, which hadn't bothered him until now when he realized how messy he had to look. 

He heard voices in front of him. 

"This man says he is your friend," one of the Dothraki explained and stepped aside so that she could see him. 

And he had to confess, seeing her was - as always - overwhelming. Her hip-length silver hair was held together by intricate braids and her purple eyes gleamed in surprise and then in joy. 

"He is a friend," she confirmed with a bright smile, blinking as if she couldn’t believe he was truly standing in front of her. 

"Your Grace", he greeted her and knelt down. 

When he got up again, he noticed the man next to Daenerys. He seemed to be about her age and looked as if he had just been told that unfortunately he was not getting cake for dessert. The fact that Daenerys had been alone here with a man who was obviously interested in her made him feel uncomfortable. However, he remembered that he was in no position to judge that. 

"Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend.” Dany's voice brought him back. 

Jon just nodded and then said, "I served your father at the Wall. He was a good man." 

Jorah couldn't bring himself to smile gratefully or say anything back, so he did after him and just nodded. 

"You look... strong. Have you found a cure?" Daenerys asked, a spark of fear in her words. 

He smiled. 

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't." 

He looked down briefly, then dared to return her gaze. 

"I return to your service, my Queen. If... you will have me." 

He looked at her with hope. 

Would she even agree? 

Her smile widened. 

"It would be me an honour." 

And before he knew it, Dany stepped closer to him to pull him towards her. Surprised, he blinked and then closed his eyes to snuggle closer to her. He didn't dare to return the hug, though his heart was crying out for it. 

He was sure she could hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Jon won't leave our side from now on, which means a lot annoyed-Jbear (I simply had to make him a little jealous... it's kinda boring in the show, although, of course, it shows how amazing Jorah is) and A LOT insults... but I can't remember if I actually wrote them down or only insulted him in my mind lmao
> 
> I should probably point out that I don't actually hate our little Snowflake but in this fic he really is... not... that... well, you will see xD


	36. i promise

The door closed and he made his way to the Chamber of the Painted Tablet. It was located in the main tower of the fortress and it was there that Aegon is said to have drawn up his plans for the conquest of Westeros. Didn’t that sound promising? 

He had not yet had a good look around the castle - he had only been here for one day - so he decided to leave a little earlier in case he came across something he wanted to explore or got lost. However, this was not the case and he was there much too early. 

When he entered the room, he didn't notice the person standing by the window at first. 

"You’re here early… Is there are problem?" 

Shocked, he looked up from the table that represented Westeros and had been carved and painted in the finest detail. In front of him stood Daenerys. 

"Oh, no, I uh… I thought I'd have a look around, but somehow, I came straight here anyway... Of course, I can leave again and come back later in case I’m interrupting something o-or disturbing you," he stuttered, not knowing why he was so insecure. 

Dany smiled. 

"Does it look as if you were disturbing me?" 

"I... don't know. But I assume that was a no." 

Silence returned and Jorah looked at the table again so as not to stare at her. 

She didn't take her eyes off him though. 

"I'm glad you're back." 

His gaze flitted back to her after all. 

"I too am glad to be at your side again. That's all I could think about the last year... It’s still a miracle to me that I recovered.” 

"You have recovered amazingly well... not just physically, I mean." 

He had to smile. 

"You mean I don't seem quite as crazy anymore?" 

"I didn't mean it like that..." 

"But you thought of it," he concluded, but was really not angry about it. 

"I knew for myself that I wasn't in my right mind... although I don’t think it was about the greyscales." 

She raised her eyebrows. 

"What do you mean? Why else?" 

She actually did not to understand... 

"Well... I think it was more the banishment and the thought that I had lost you forever than the disease." 

It was strange to say that out loud... in front of her. 

"Oh, I... I didn't…” 

“It’s okay,” he interrupted her before she could twist her tongue into a knot. 

After a brief silence she confessed, “I wasn't feeling well either, to be honest.” 

She seemed to study the floor next to his boots. 

"What were you doing when you were... not with me?" 

Surprised that she wanted to know that, he ran his hand through his now messy hair. 

"You want to hear the whole story? From the beginning?" 

"Well, maybe the beginning... for now," she said and sat down in her seat. Jorah was too restless to sit down. 

"Well, let’s see… I uh… I set off for Yunkai first. At some point I lost my memories and then found myself in Astapor before King Cleon. I offered him information..." 

"What information?" 

The memory of his trial flashed back at her words and his eyes widened for a moment in horror. But he shook his head when he realised that she had not intended this to happen. 

"About you." 

Before it could lead to misunderstandings, he went on. 

"When we were alone, I killed him." 

He couldn't look back at her, didn't want to see through her eyes what she was thinking. So, he waited for her to say something. 

"Why?", it finally came. 

She didn’t seem surprised. 

Had she suspected something like this? 

"For you... I thought he wanted to join Yunkai, and besides, he's defied your laws." 

She nodded. 

"What then?" 

"I managed to get on a ship that was attacked by pirates after some days at sea... Well, you know the story from then on." 

He looked down in shame. 

She had never mentioned Aegon and Connington, but he was sure she knew about it. Tyrion would never have kept it to himself. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. 

Just as confused as she was, he looked at her. 

"Did Tyrion not tell you how we met and who was with him?" 

She shook her head. 

"When I asked him, he said you should tell me." 

What?! 

He didn't know whether that was good or bad, but one thing was for sure: Daenerys would not be glad to hear he killed her only family member that was alive… or rather had been. 

Would she banish him again? Or even kill him this time? 

"He told you nothing?" 

"No. So how did you meet?" 

He swallowed. 

He couldn't escape it now. 

"The pirates were led by a man named Jon Connington also known as Griff. I don't know if you know him or have heard of him, but he was a good friend of your brother Rhaegar. With him was a boy. He had your eyes, and I could guess who he was. Aegon Targaryen." 

He broke off, but Daenerys had nothing to say and was just waiting for him to go on. 

"They included Tyrion and Varys. Thanks to Varys, they found out who I was and made me realize that they could use my support to... to convince you to marry Aegon. You could have taken Westeros together and ruled together... or so they thought. But it was clear they were only interested in your dragons and soldiers. I swore my loyalty to Connington to get free. One morning, the ship was attacked by stone men." 

He looked at her briefly, for now came the worst part and he might not be able to look at her ever again afterwards. 

"In the muddle, I killed Varys, grabbed Tyrion and jumped from the ship into the Smoking Sea. I left Aegon and Jon to the stone men..." 

She still hadn't thrown anything in or even made a sound, she just sat there staring at him with huge eyes. 

"Aegon is still alive? I-I am not the last of my house?" 

He opened his mouth, struggled for words - although a simple "no" would have been enough - then he heard footsteps behind him and Jon Snow and Davos Seaworth entered the room. 

"What is this about? Why are we meeting up?" 

Jorah was on the one hand relieved that he could not be further questioned, but on the other hand he was also annoyed. Of course, it was Jon who would interrupt their conversation. 

"Tyrion thought a letter had come for you", Daenerys explained succinctly and the dwarf came. 

In his hand a small parchment scroll. He handed it wordlessly to Jon and then sat down on the seat next to his queen. 

Jorah watched him sullen and took his place in the shadow of the room behind the Khaleesi, from where he had a good view of everyone and could see every action and reaction. 

Without hesitation, the King of the North broke the seal and unrolled the little message. His eyes flitted across the lines and his gaze wandered absent-mindedly into the distance. 

„They’re alive… I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.” 

Jorah guessed that they were his siblings. 

Daenerys smiled. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Jon ignored her, whereupon she added, “You don’t look happy.” 

Jon rolled up the letter again. 

“Bran saw the Night King’s army marching towards East Watch.” 

He threw the parchment on the table. 

“If they make it past the Wall-!” 

“The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably,” Jorah interrupted the other one. 

He ought not to act like that. 

The bastard of the north did not heed his objection. 

“I need to go home.” 

“You said you don’t have enough men,” Daenerys brought up, seemingly worried. 

“We’ll fight with the men we have...” 

He stopped for a second. 

“…unless you’ll join us.” 

“And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away, she marches in.” 

Jorah agreed with that in silence. 

“Perhaps not,” claimed Tyrion, who had just conceived an idea. 

All attention focused on him. 

“Cersei thinks the army of the Dead is nothing but a story made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?” 

“I don’t think she’ll come see the dead at my invitation,” Jon said, but the imp had foreseen that. 

“So bring the dead to her.” 

Everyone but him looked shocked. 

Daenerys found her voice first. 

“I thought that was what we were trying to avoid.” 

“We don’t have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier.” 

They had to think about that first. 

“Is that possible?” Davos asked his king, who was still considering the chances. 

“The first wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the Wall.” 

“Bring one of these down to King’s Landing and show her the truth,” Tyrion said. 

"Cersei would have to grant us an audience for this, so that she does not kill us as soon as we set foot in the city. How do you plan to do that?", the queen asked. 

"Jaime... the only person she listens to is Jaime. And he might listen to me." 

He looked back at Daenerys. 

"And how will you get into the city?" 

She obviously didn't like the idea of sending her hand to the lions... even though he was one of them himself. Or maybe because he was one of them. 

All eyes were on Davos who looked surprised. 

“I can smuggle you in,” he offered. 

“But if the gold cloaks should recognize you, I’m warning you, I’m not a good fighter.” 

Silence. 

Then Daenerys raised her voice again, “Well, it will all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men… How do you propose to find one?” 

At that, everyone was at a loss. 

Jorah looked them all in the face one by one. Wasn't it obvious? 

“With the queen’s permission, I’ll go north and take one,” he said since no one else seemed to do so. 

Daenerys turned to him and tried to contradict him, but he was faster. 

He wanted to do this for her. 

“You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you.” 

What else was he supposed to do? 

“The free folk will help us,” stated Jon, when no one else said anything. 

Davos didn’t agree with that. 

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah.” 

“They won’t have to.” 

Was that supposed to mean that he should spend the next few weeks with Jon? 

Jorah sighed inwardly. At least, neither of them would be with Daenerys then. 

“You can’t lead the raid beyond the Wall. You’re not in the Night’s Watch anymore, you’re the King in the North,” his advisor contradicted. 

“I’m the only one here who’s fought them, I’m the only one who knows them,” the bastard of the north answered slightly annoyed. 

Jorah looked at Daenerys who wasn’t very impressed. 

“I haven’t given you permission to leave.” 

“With respect, Your Grace, I don’t need your permission. I am a king.” 

The knight would have liked to roll his eyes. 

That sounded very much like a monologue that would follow in a moment. And he was right. 

“I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I’m asking you to trust in a stranger… because it’s our best chance.”

Jorah lifted a crate into the boat that would take them to the ship that was sailing to East Watch. He wasn't in a very good mood, though not too bad either. He was just... neutral. A grey zone. 

The reason? 

Well, it bothered him that Daenerys had not spoken to him once since he had told her about Aegon. He didn't know whether she was angry, sad or disappointed. All he knew was that she surely would have had the time to talk to him. But she had chosen not to do so.

"I heard you told the queen about Aegon." 

He turned and found himself facing Tyrion. 

"Well, someone had to do it, right?" He replied bitterly. 

He didn't want to argue with the Lannister. 

"Look, Mormont, I didn't tell her because I knew it would be better if you did. And you know that as well as I do. If I had told her, you'd have hated me even more.” 

"Well, trust me, this doesn’t change the fact that our hatred is mutual.” 

"Who says I hated you?" 

That caught him off guard. 

"I would hate me if I were you." 

"Well, I guess I see things a little differently. I know you were just trying to win back Daenerys and I understand that. I would have done the same." 

"I treated you like dirt... I still do and I don't intend to change that." 

Tyrion smiled. 

"I really hope you come back again... I’d miss your grumpy face… and of course, our queen needs you." 

He hadn't expected a nice comment from him, so for a brief moment he couldn't find the words and just nodded. He heard sand crunching and recognised Daenerys walking towards him. 

The gnome smiled one last time, then disappeared. 

Jorah was sure she didn't want to go to him but was just waiting for Jon to say goodbye, so he was about to turn away again. 

"Jorah..." 

He paused. 

She couldn't be here for him. But she was already standing in front of him. 

"I wanted to say... Take care of yourself." 

He blinked. 

She was not angry. 

"Khaleesi, I-" 

He fell silent when she took his hands in hers. 

"Promise me." 

She was afraid for him... The realisation hurt but it also made him smile. She was not angry with him... 

Her eyes were worriedly widened and he forgot for a moment that they weren’t alone. 

"I promise", he replied and bowed to kiss her hand. 

Jorah had done it automatically, not thinking about it as usual, but in hindsight he would not have done it. She seemed to have no problem with it, though. 

He gave her one last smile and then turned away to the boat again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jon approaching her and saying goodbye. 

Jorah shook his head slightly and turned away. 

He had to come to terms with it...


	37. Beyond the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this took me soooooo long to translate xD

It was the second week at sea when he accidentally bumped into Jon. The King in the North stood at the railing, as Jorah usually did, and looked at the coast, which could be seen in the distance. The knight was about to leave again, but the other one had already noticed him. 

"Ser Jorah!" 

He turned around. 

What did he want from him? 

"I had hoped we could talk.” 

"About what?” 

Jon seemed surprised by the harsh words and Jorah could have slapped himself. 

There was no need to be rude. Jon was not his enemy. Not yet. 

"Forgive me, I get a little... restless at sea sometimes. What is it you want to talk about?" 

"Well, I was hoping we could just talk. I haven't heard much about you and what I heard wasn't very good. Although, as far as I can judge, I don’t think the rumours did you right. You seem like an honourable man." 

The knight lowered his head gratefully. 

"I deserve those rumours; I dare to say that many of them are true. Of course, I'm not proud of what I did... but I'd do it again." 

Astonishment was reflected in Jon's dark eyes. 

"You would? Why that?" 

"Everything I did in the past lead me to Daenerys and I found meaning in my life again." 

The other man nodded understandingly. 

"She seems to have a good heart." 

Jorah couldn’t object to that. 

"Oh, she has..."

It annoyed him that Jon was the first Westerosi to be taken with Daenerys. 

"Have you met Sam? Samwell Tarly," it suddenly occurred to him, knowing that both of them had once served the Night's Watch. 

"Of course. He... he's a very good friend. How does it come that you know him?" 

"He's the one who cured me. The boy is truly gifted..." 

"I wouldn't call him a boy," Jon laughed, something he hadn’t thought the man was able to. 

"Why? How old is he?" 

"I guess about my age... about 23 years." 

"Oh." 

Jorah raised his eyebrows in surprise and had to laugh a little, too. 

"Well, then he's a very talented man." 

"He surely is." 

Suddenly, Jon's calm expression changed. 

"Has he told you about your father?" 

"You know about it?" 

"As I said, Sam is a good friend." 

There was a brief silence. 

"And yet you returned to Daenerys..." 

Jorah knew this was not meant maliciously, but the words triggered a queasy feeling inside him and he felt offended. 

"She is my Khaleesi. I have pledged my life to her and I do not intend to break my oaths,” he replied coolly. 

Jon sighed. 

"I'm sure your father would understand..." 

He looked at his counterpart with eyes narrowed to slits. 

"But?" 

The King in the North was probably not sure whether he should express his thoughts or not and finally decided to do so. 

"You wouldn't be breaking your oaths if you did join the Night’s Watch. All your sins would be forgiven... The Watch needs all the men it can get. You would be a great asset to them. You know your way around the North, you're used to the cold, and you're a good fighter. At least, if Tyrion's words are to be believed. I'm sure Daenerys would understand that.” 

Did he really think he didn't already know all this? 

Besides, he did not fear that Daenerys wouldn’t understand him, but that she would have no problem with him leaving her again. 

"I'll think about it... but first we should concentrate on our mission." 

"Of course." 

With that the conversation was over and Jorah turned away. He wished it had never happened. 

Not only did he begin to doubt his decision not to join the Night's Watch, but he had to admit that Jon could be indeed a good choice as husband for Daenerys. 

After a few more days at sea, they saw the Wall and Jorah had to say that he had somehow made it bigger in his memories. Maybe it was just higher at the Shadow Tower than here, but he had the unpleasant feeling that that wasn't the reason. 

After a few more hours they finally docked and were back on land. 

The cold up here hit him hard, but he was used to it and had missed it. Sun and heat simply disturbed him. Snow and cold on the other hand felt like home. At the gate of the run-down fortress they were greeted by a red-haired man who was clearly happy to see Jon. Turned out, he was one of the wildlings... 

They were led into the dining hall - although it wasn't really a hall but more of a room - and sat down to explain their plans. Tormund - said wildling - didn't seem to be very enthusiastic, though. 

“Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” he grumbled to Davos, who confessed, 

“I’ve been failing at that job at late.” 

“How many queens are there now?” the red head changed the topic. 

Jon answered. 

“Two.” 

“And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?” 

“Both.” 

“How many men did you bring?” 

The king in the north glanced at Jorah, then also answered that question. 

“Not enough.” 

“We were hoping some of your men could help,” the knight added. 

Tormund rumbled. Nobody knew whether this was consent or not. 

“I’ll be staying behind,” Davos murmured. 

“I’m a liability out there, as you well know.” 

“You are,” Tormund agreed and Jorah reconsidered his judgement of him. Maybe he was all right after all. 

“You really want to go out there? Again?” he asked Jon, who nodded. 

The wildling sighed.

“You’re not the only ones…” 

He rose and walked towards the cells. Surprised, the rest followed him. 

“My scouts found them a mile south from the wall. Said they were on their way here,” he explained as they entered the cold room and stopped in front of one cell. Jon stepped up to the grate as he looked at one of the inmates. 

“You’re the hound,” he stated. 

“I saw you once at Winterfell.” 

Sandor sat up and stared at him expressionlessly. 

“They want to go beyond the Wall, too,” said the wildling. 

“We don’t want to go beyond the wall, we have to.” 

The voice sounded from a dark corner of the cell and Jorah recognized Beric Dondarrion. 

“Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming-.” 

“Don’t trust him,” Gendry interrupted him. 

Jorah honestly didn’t know what the boy was doing here, but apparently, he had insisted. And they needed every man they could get. 

“Don’t trust any of them…” 

He stopped next to Jon. 

“They’re the Brotherhood. And the last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered.” 

The knight had not listened to his last words. He had recognised a third person in the shadows and could not believe his eyes at first. 

"Thoros?", he then asked. 

“I hardly recognized you…” 

The man looked up and leaned unbelievingly out of the shadow as he realized who was standing there. 

“Ser Jorah Mormont… They won’t give me anything to drink down here. I haven’t been feeling like myself.” 

Before he could answer anything, Tormund had turned to him. 

“You’re a fucking Mormont? Like the last Lord Commander?” 

Now Jorah looked at him, too. “He was my father.” 

“He hunted us like animals.” 

He felt the need to defend his father and replied coolly: “And you returned the favour, as I recall.” 

The wildling gave a growl. 

Before the situation could escalate, Beric took the floor. 

“Here we all are… at the edge of the world, at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason.” 

“Our reasons aren’t your reasons,” said Ser Davos, his voice cold as ice. 

Jorah glanced at the onion knight, surprised. 

“It doesn’t matter what we think our reasons are. There’s a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light-.” 

“For fuck’s sake, will you shut your hole?” the Hound grunted and looked up to Jon. 

“Are we coming with you or not?” 

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?” Jorah asked and the priest returned, “Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?” 

Jon ignored the question and simply said, “He’s right. We’re all on the same side.” 

Gendry snorted in disbelief. 

“How can we be?” 

“We’re all breathing.”

They had stomped out of the tunnel that led through the Wall and then they had set off. No one knew exactly in which direction to go, but going off in the middle of it seemed like a good solution. So, most of the time they just walked silently over frozen snow and ice. Only once in a while there were conversations, although Jorah mostly did not listen to them. 

He was thinking about the Night’s Watch. They really seemed to need every man they could get. 

Daenerys didn't seem to need him anymore though. 

He had only been at Dragonstone for a few days, but in that time, it had become clear that she didn't need a knight, since she had all the Unsullied, Dothraki and Tyrion and Missandei as advisors. 

So why should he force himself on her? 

Suddenly Jon walked beside him. 

“The first time I went north of the Wall was with your father.” 

“He was a good man. He deserved a better son,” Jorah murmured, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“Were you with him at the end?” 

If he were to say yes... Gods, Jorah would hate himself even more. He would also hate Jon even more. 

“I was a prisoner of the wildlings. But we avenged him. I want you to know that, every mutineer found justice,” the King in the North answered and the knight wished he had been the one to do justice to those bastards. 

“Can’t think of a worse way for him to go. The Night’s Watch was his life. He would have died to protect every one of those men. And they butchered him,” he spoke a part of his thoughts and looked at the other. 

“I hate that he died that way. My father was the most honourable man I ever met. He was good all the way through. And he died on the executioner’s block.” 

Well, Jorah couldn’t claim that he was sorry for Eddard. 

“Your father wanted to execute me, you know?” 

“I heard.” 

“He was in the right of course. Didn’t make me hate him any less.” 

Jon met his gaze with cocked eyebrows. 

“I’m glad he didn’t catch you.” 

“Me too.” 

They walked on in silence. 

Then Jon suddenly stopped and started fiddling with his sword belt. 

“Your father gave me this sword. Changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf.” 

He handed him the sword with the belt. 

“But it’s still Longclaw.” 

Jorah, who only now realized that this was his old sword, was a little shocked... Of course, his father had given it to Jon. To whom else if not the great Jon? 

“Lord Commander Mormont thought you’d never come back to Westeros,” he just explained. 

“But you’re back and it’s been in your family for centuries. It’s not right for me to have it.” 

Grudgingly he had to admit that he no longer had a right to the sword. 

“He gave it to you.” 

“I’m not his son.” 

Oh, but he sure had wished he was. He pulled the sword slightly out of its sheath to look at the blade. It had been well looked after. 

“I brought shame onto my house… I broke my father’s heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword.” 

He put it back and held it out to Jon. 

“It’s yours... May it serve you well. And your children after you.” 

The idea of Jon's children with this sword was lovely. The idea that these were Dany's children too, was not. 

Without saying anything else, he started to move on, leaving the other one behind.

Another day went by and they were caught in a storm. Storms were already a bad thing south of the Wall, but north, where nobody knew what to expect in snow, it was something else entirely. 

Not that he was afraid. It was just very... oppressive. 

A single man he didn't know was walking ahead. The rest of the group in a crowd behind him. 

It felt like the weather was getting worse with every step they took. 

Abruptly, Tormund stopped and stared into the distance, trying to make out something. 

"There." 

He pointed forward. 

"A bear. A mighty fucker." 

Now Jorah saw it too. 

It seemed really big... 

The man who walked ahead, too, stopped when he saw the bear. The animal seemed to be coming closer slowly. 

"Do bears have blue eyes?" asked Gendry, who noticed the blue glow. 

No one replied. Everyone knew the answer. 

No bear - except Jorah, of course - had blue eyes. 

The animal accelerated. It headed straight for the man in front, who saw it, turned around immediately and started running back to the group. Jorah wanted to rush towards him, but that would only help if they all did it together and too many were in shock to move. That's how the bear caught the man. 

One scream and then they were both gone. As if they had never been there before. 

Jon stumbled in horror to the last place he had stood. The rest followed him ... 

All they found was blood-soaked snow and a spear. 

All right, then. Jorah had to admit that it was actually scary. 

He drew his sword and a dagger and took up a fighting position. 

A single bear would be no problem... or would it? 

Tense, he tried to look through the storm, but as his eyes searched the snowy landscape, the beast appeared out of nowhere to his right and fell upon one of the men he didn't know with a piercing roar. He was torn to shreds in a few seconds and when someone else tried to help him, he was hurled several metres through the air. 

The animal reared up and the knight knew that they would have no chance against it with swords alone, so he lingered behind him without moving. 

Thoros attacked and was immediately thrown away, so far that Jorah could not see him anymore thanks to the storm. 

Beric set his sword on fire and attacked the bear, who was briefly back on all fours. It caught fire, but that didn't stop it from attacking the Hound. Thoros threw himself in its way and intercepted the attack with his sword. He went down again, the animal with its mouth open above him. 

The priest managed to put his sword crosswise so that the blade could stop it for a short time. 

Tormund attacked, futilely. 

Beric attacked, useless. 

Even Jon attacked, but without success. 

The Hound still stood in front of the monster. But he only stared at it in horror. 

Thoros gave in, the animal tore open his belly and buried his snout in the flesh, but Sandor still just stared at it. Jorah didn’t know why, but what he knew was that he had to act or they would lose another man. 

Quickly he crept up from behind, lifting his Dragonglass dagger and thrusted it into the bear's shoulder. It stopped moving instantly, then it collapsed. 

Two men came immediately and dragged Thoros away from the carcass. 

The knight just stood there, slapping himself on the arm several times as the fabric had begun to burn and staring at the bear in disbelief. He forced himself to turn away and stomp towards Thoros. 

When he saw the wound, he automatically inhaled sharply. He should have come to his aid sooner. 

“We have to get him back to East Watch.” 

His friend just shook his head and groaned, “Flask.” 

Beric pulled a bottle out of his pocket. He opened it and Thoros grabbed it to drink it as fiercely as if it was the last time. Which perhaps it was... 

“Go on,” he grunted and closed his eyes. 

Beric nodded, then pressed his - still burning - sword on the wounds. He cried out and Jorah could vividly imagine how painful it was... 

“You alright?” Beric asked when he was finished. 

In reply a growl. 

“I just got bit by a dead bear.” 

“Aye, you did.” 

“Funny old life…” 

He grabbed Beric’s hand and was pulled on his feed. 

“Right then… We’re off!”

Jorah walked beside Thoros, careful to notice when it was getting too much for him. 

“Something I’ve always wanted to know,” he claimed after a while to break the silence. 

“All right,” the priest smiled. 

“How drunk were you when you charged through the breach of Pyke?” 

“If I’m being honest, I don’t remember charging through the breach. Some of the lads told me about it the next morning…” 

He tried to fumble open his wine bottle. 

“Sounded like a good scrap.” 

Jorah took the bottle in his hand and closed it again. 

“Aye… It was a proper scrap. The ironborn thought you were some kind of god, the way you were waving your flaming sword.” 

By the time he had said so, he had stowed away the vessel. 

“I thought you were the bravest man I ever saw.” 

Thoros shook his head. 

“Just the drunkest.” 

Then he walked on. 

Jorah had to hurry to keep up, but just at this very moment Tormund gave a hand signal that everyone should stop. Carefully he pressed his back against a rock and peered out from behind it. 

The knight didn’t know what exactly he saw, but it seemed to be some of the dead. At least according to the whispers between Jon and the wildling. 

“Where’s the rest of them?” 

“If we wait long enough, we’ll find out.”

He cowered behind a stone. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the shuffling of the dead in front of that stone. Then shuffling stopped. 

Suddenly the call of Jon sounded. 

"Now!" 

And Jorah stormed out from behind the rock to meet the first wight. Because they all were pretty much surprised, he could easily finish him off, but another one suddenly came up to him and managed to grab him by the neck. 

He gasped in horror. 

Why always his neck, goddammit? 

Then it disintegrated all of a sudden and he was free. 

Surprised, he looked around. Jon had killed the White Walker! 

All the others began to disintegrate too. Except for one. 

Immediately, they all surrounded him. 

This was their chance! 

The dead man couldn't quite decide who to attack and finally chose Tormund who had just thrown away his axe. But that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Straightaway he gave the attacker a hook to the chin, so that he flew backwards and lay on the ground for a short time. 

Without hesitation the bloodhound threw himself on him and the others came to his aid. But before they could cover the wight’s mouth, it gave a shrill scream. A warning out cry. 

Shocked, Jorah looked up when he heard a rumble in the distance. 

They came... 

Jon quickly turned to Gendry. 

"Run back to East Watch. Send a raven to Daenerys, tell her what’s happened." 

"I'm not leaving you!" 

"You're the fastest. Go! Now!" 

The knight turned to their prisoner again. 

He quickly pulled out a sack and put it over his head. 

They had to get out of here! 

The hound grabbed the wight, two others helped Thoros to his feet and they ran off. They sprinted through a ravine and came to a frozen lake. Just as they were about to cross it, a loud crackling sound rattled through the air. 

"Stop!" he yelled and retreated. 

The ice continued to crack... 

Behind them there were screams and clattering feet sounding like a thunderstorm and they all realized that this was the only way. 

"Run!" cried Jon and stormed off. 

The rest of them followed him. The ice creaked and groaned, but it didn't break entirely... yet. 

One of the men fell down, but no one could help him. He was able to keep running but was jumped by a dead man after a few seconds. They hit the ice hard, it broke… and they were gone. 

Jorah finally managed to climb up the rock in the middle of the lake, close behind Jon, and pulled out his daggers. The cold air burned in his lungs and he looked around worriedly at the others. 

They could not go any further. 

The hole in the ice had made it more unstable, and although the wights could not get to them, as they would collapse and sink, they, the living, could not go any further either. 

Eventually the whole shore was covered with tattered bodies staring at them with their blue eyes. 

They were stuck.


	38. too many good byes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daaaaaaamn translating and finally posting this took quite a while and I have no idea how long it will take me for the text chapter (it's pretty long) but I hope I'll get it done within a week xD

The night had passed and the day had come. 

Undercooled, they sat pressed together, half asleep on the rock and did not know what to do. At some point the Hound picked himself up and shuffled to the captive dead man who just wouldn't give it a rest. Wordlessly he kicked him against his back with all the strength he could muster, but that only made him scream louder. 

Now the others also overcame themselves to rise. If they did not move, they would freeze to death. 

"Thoros?" 

At the sound of Beric's voice, Jorah turned to him. He was kneeling in front of the priest who lay on the ground with open, staring eyes. He didn’t move. He was dead. 

The younger knight looked down, feeling sadness overcoming him. Thoros had not been his friend, but he had liked him. He hadn’t deserved to die like this. 

Jorah turned away from the others. He didn't want to hear their talk and besides, the others were more interesting. They were still standing like yesterday. Unchanged. They seemed to have no problem with waiting. 

His thoughts wandered to yesterday... 

Suddenly Jon stood next to him and watched the dead as well. 

"Soon we'll be frozen through... just like the water," Jorah brought out through his chattering teeth. 

"When you slew the White Walker, almost all the dead fell at his side. Why?" 

"Perhaps he had raised them again," Jon suspected, and seemed no less cold. 

"We can attack the walkers. Maybe we have a chance this way," Jorah said and began to grope back and forth from foot to foot. 

"We have to take this thing back with us. A raven is heading for Dragonstone...", the other replied, looking at the prisoner. 

"Daenerys is our only chance." 

"No", Beric contradicted and joined them. 

"Not the only one." 

He rose his hand and pointed with his sword at a small band of White Walkers who looked down on them from an elevation. In front of them - sitting on his horse - the Night King. 

"Let us kill him. He has resurrected them all." 

"You don't understand...", Jon half-heartedly objected, but Beric had his arguments. 

"The Lord brought you back and he brought me back. No one else, just us. Did he do this just to watch us freeze to death?" 

"Careful, Beric," Sandor gloated. 

"You are without your priest now. This is your last life." 

"I've waited a long time for the end. Maybe the Lord wants me to find it here." 

"Every Lord I have ever met has been a cunt. I don't know why your Lord would be any different.” 

Well said... 

Jorah didn't rely on the Lord of Light either. But he did rely on Daenerys.

They sat there again, waiting. 

If they had asked him, he would have guessed that it was afternoon, but he couldn't be sure. The low hanging clouds covered the sun and thus the only source of heat they had. 

At the edge of his consciousness, he noticed soft cursing and a thud. When he looked up, he realised that Sandor Clegane had thrown a stone at one of the wights. He must have been bored... but it was no good idea. Jorah was about to say just that when the Hound threw the next stone. 

It was bigger and heavier than the first one and landed on the ice, several metres from the dead, from where it continued to slide until it lay at the feet of one of them. The stone had slid across the ice to the feet of a dead man! 

Jorah jumped up, alarmed. 

The others had also noticed and understood. 

The water was frozen again! 

Everyone drew their weapons. But of course, they knew that they had no chance against all of them. They were outnumbered! 

A single opponent put his rotten foot on the ice in front of him. 

Nothing happened. 

He took another step. And another one. And at some point, he just sauntered towards them. 

Others joined him and more and more of them sauntered across the lake towards the rock. The first one reached it and was hit by the Hound's axe, then Jorah lost track and had to concentrate on himself. 

He slit the first one's upper body lengthwise with one of the daggers, the next one's throat was cut, the one on top of it kicked against his chest so that he fell off the rock and took three others with him. But others were already coming and this wave was bigger and faster than the one before. 

Shortly afterwards he was already striking with the blades in no exact direction, tempted to throw them, but he had to keep them with him, as he couldn't risk losing them. His feet were frozen and it hurt to take even one quick step, but better that than dead. 

As he looked around briefly, he noticed Jon, who had been grabbed from behind, and stumbled to him. He plunged a blade into the dead man's neck and yanked him away. Then he turned away again and fought on. The King in the North should be able to take care of himself. 

He plunged a dagger into the chest of the next one from below and at the same time he rammed his elbow into the face of another one, so that he staggered back for a moment and he could finish him now. He hacked at more enemies, but for each he killed, two more were added. 

"Fall back!", Jon's voice sounded. 

"FALL BACK!" 

He turned around and saw him standing by their prisoner, but just as he was about to retreat a little, he heard a scream to his right. 

Tormund. He had been seized by several at once and was pulled away. 

"Help me!" 

The knight was about to do just that, when he himself was knocked down. Startled, he fought to get back on his legs and stabbed the one who had knocked him down. When he looked around for the wildling, he saw that the Hound was already helping him. He looked around for Jon and found that he had just been about to fall off the rock into the arms of the dead. Luckily, he had managed to keep his balance and had stumbled back quite frightened himself. 

Jorah turned away again and concentrated on the dead. 

More and more were pushing towards the rock, forcing them to retreat no matter how stubbornly they tried to hold their position. At some point he almost fell backwards from the rock himself, but Tormund grabbed his arm in time and saved him from it. There was no time to thank the wildling, as others were already about to pounce on him. 

Out of breath and exhausted, he turned to Jon and saw that he was just standing there desperately. He too had probably realized that they were lost. He was about to throw his sword away and give up when he heard a scream. Not a human cry and not a dead one either. But that of a dragon. 

Without warning, the first flame lit up his field of vision, set fire to his opponents and he made him blink a few times. When he looked up at the sky, he recognised three dragons. 

Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal. 

He could not help but smile. He had known he could rely on them. 

More flames illuminated the darkness of winter, breaking through the ice and sinking some of the dead. Jorah had no choice but to stand there and watch. More and more water splashed up and you could think it mixed with the fire. The dragons roared and filled them all with hope. 

Drogon suddenly landed right in front of the rock and spat his fire from there. Jon was the first to approach the dragon and Dany reached out her hand to help him up, but then a single wight came up to them and Jon turned away to fend it off. 

"Go!" 

The others didn't need to be told twice and climbed onto the back of the dragon. When it was Jorah's turn, he heard a startled cry from Jon. Reluctantly he looked around. 

What was that idiot doing? 

"Jon!" 

Snow didn't hear him. 

"JON!" 

He was about to turn around and get him so they could get the hell out of here, but then… 

"Jorah!" 

He stopped and met Daenerys’ gaze. 

"You have to get out of here! I can follow with Rhaegal and Jon!" 

"No! I'm not leaving without you!" 

It needed a moment of hesitation before he gave in. 

Relieved, she reached out her hand to him and helped him up. 

As soon as he had taken a seat behind her and wanted to say something, a bloodcurdling scream sounded. Shocked, everyone looked up at the sky. 

Viserion! What was wrong with him?! 

Then he saw it. 

A spear had pierced his throat and the dragon fell onto the ice, while masses of blood spurted from the wound. Shocked, they watched as the ice cracked with a loud crash and the dragon began to sink into the depths of the lake. 

"No...", was all he heard from Dany. He too was too shocked - shocked was even an understatement - to say anything logical. He couldn’t see Jon, but he heard his voice, "You have to leave! Go!" 

Daenerys looked at him as he tried to run to the dragon, but two dead men caught him. 

"LEAVE!" 

He yelled before he was torn into the freezing cold water. 

"Khaleesi," Jorah said softly. 

She didn't seem to hear him. 

"Daenerys." 

She still didn't respond. 

"Daenerys!" 

Only when he put a hand on her shoulder did she flinch and looked at him in horror. 

“They killed him…” 

His heart broke at the sound of her voice. 

"We have to get out of here,” he whispered. 

She pressed her lips together, her purple eyes glassy. 

"We can't help him... please," he said gently and seemed to finally get through to her. 

She gave Drogon a wordless sign and immediately the dragon flapped his wings and swung into the air. Out of nowhere an ice-blue spear shot at them and Drogon just barely avoided it, lying almost at an angle in the air. 

Jorah lost his footing as he refused to hold on to Daenerys and had almost fallen off if Tormund hadn't grabbed his arm. Startled, he pulled himself back onto his back and tried to hold on to the spikes as best he could. 

Rhaegal appeared beside them and he routinely looked to the other side, expecting to find Viserion... but he wasn't there. 

He still felt a snowman alike, although he had certainly warmed up at least an hour in front of one of the fireplaces. He had not seen Daenerys once in that hour, but he knew exactly where to find her. 

In that hour he had also made a decision. He hoped she would understand him. 

Somewhere in the clouds above him, a long screech sounded. 

Rhaegal... he was looking for his brother. 

Jorah stopped for a moment and closed his eyes in depression. 

They had lost a dragon. A goddamn dragon! One of Dany's children... 

He wanted to be there for her and the remaining two dragons, but didn't know how. He didn't know what to say to ease the pain even remotely. 

He set himself in motion again and stomped up the icy steps. At the top he shakily breathed in the cold air and looked around. 

He had never been on the wall before, but the paths were wider than expected and there was no sense of insecurity. 

Carefully he set foot on the ice and walked slowly to one of the shelters for the guards. And there she stood... 

Daenerys just stared into the distance... to the north. 

Jorah pressed his lips together. 

It broke his heart to see her like that. 

“Khaleesi…” 

She didn’t move, but at least answered. 

“What is it?” 

He sighed in silence and stopped beside her. 

“I had hoped, we could talk.” 

And finally, she looked at him. 

“If this is about Aegon... you didn't kill him. You didn't send the stone men after him. You are not to blame for his death, because if you had stayed, you would be dead too.” 

He blinked, surprised. 

That was not exactly where he was about to get at, but it still lifted some weight from his shoulders. 

“No. No, it’s not about that… It’s about my father. In one way or another.” 

“What about him?” 

She was confused and seemed already to have a dark premonition. 

“You know that he’s dead?” 

She nodded slowly. 

He unintentionally stroked his beard. 

"Well... at the citadel I met a boy who... who was with him when… when it happened. When he found out that I was Jeor's son, he did everything he could to cure me and he succeeded… as you can see. He had already told me that he was a member of the Night’s Watch and was with my father that night and when I asked him if there was anything, I could do for him, he revealed to me... something." 

Dany's eyes were widened in concern. 

"What was it?" 

He shakily expelled his bated breath. 

"His last will." 

Jorah lowered his eyes. 

"He said he’d forgive me and that I should join The Night's Watch." 

When he looked up again, he saw that Daenerys’ mouth was slightly open and she seemed to realize what he was getting at. 

"Jorah... please...", she breathed, her eyes pleading… 

It was worse than he had imagined. 

"I must join the Night's Watch..." 

"No... No, please. You can't leave me again. Not you as well!" 

She was interrupted by her own sobs. 

“Please, Jorah, I-.” 

She reached out to gently cub his cheek. 

"I’m begging you... Don’t leave me." 

"I'm sorry." 

His vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears and he tried to blink them away. In this moment of weakness, he also reached out a hand and wiped one of the tears from her cheek. He wanted to pull it away again, but he didn’t have the heart. 

"Try to understand me… You no longer need me as an advisor. You have Tyrion." 

His voice broke as he said the dwarf’s name. 

"You don't need a single knight to protect you. You have a whole army and full-grown dragons." 

He managed to pull back his hand. 

"The Night's Watch needs every man it can get. You've seen what's coming." 

Her eyes were soughing his gaze. 

"Jorah… Jorah, look at me… You are the one who doesn’t understand.” 

She now took his face in both her hands and softly turned it towards her so he couldn't help but look at her. 

"Perhaps I do not need you because you are some knight or... or advisor." 

Now tears were rolling down her cheeks and she barely whispered: "I need you because you are you." 

Before he knew it, she had pulled him to her and pressed her lips against his. This touch kindled a flame inside him that had not been burning for years and he would have loved to give in. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and press her even closer, inhale her sweet scent and never let go, but instead he rose his hands and… pushed her away. 

"Forgive me..." 

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing her even more hurt. 

"But I can't stay with you."


	39. Foreshadowing

She stared at him in shock. 

He had pushed her away... 

She couldn't help but give in to her tears and turn away from him. 

He was going to leave her! He couldn't be serious! Not after all they had been through just to find each other again... 

She tried to calm down and swallow her anger and sadness, but it only made her cry more. 

She had longed for a kiss with him for months, but not one like this. Of course, she had known she couldn't marry him anymore, but that didn't stop her mind from imagining just that. 

Annoyed at herself, she vigorously wiped away her tears and turned back to her bear. 

"All right..." 

Her throat tightened and she literally struggled to breathe. 

"Then... I guess that's settled now." 

Without another word, she stormed past him, deliberately jostling him and not looking back once. He didn’t try to stop her. She had hoped he would... 

Only at the sound of the horn did she pause. A blast. Could it be...? 

Quickly she rushed to the nearest shelter, from which she could see across the vast icy landscape beyond the wall. When she caught sight of the lone rider coming out of the forest, her heart almost stopped. 

He had made it! Jon was back! 

She didn't know what it was she liked about him, but somehow, he made her feel safe. She felt comfortable in his presence. Almost like being with Jorah... 

She shook her head to keep from thinking about him. However, her knight had nestled in her mind and she couldn't get him out of her head. 

She gritted her teeth, which were beginning to chatter in the cold, and hurried to the stairs. She didn't know if Jorah was still up here or already down, but honestly, she didn't care. At least that's what she told herself...

She wondered, what he was doing right now? Maybe he was freezing in those much too cold chambers… or maybe he kept watch on the wall. He certainly wasn't any more useful there than at her side... 

She should have talked to him longer. She should have tried harder to convince him. 

Suddenly Jon moved and tore her out of her thoughts. 

When he had arrived at East watch, unconscious and undercooled, they had immediately taken him to the ship, torn open his frozen clothes, put him in a bed and covered him with furs. They had been at sea for two days now, heading for King's Landing, and he had only woken up a few times in a fright. Dany had never been there, but she had decided to drop in on him once. 

As soon as he recognised her, he carefully took her hand. 

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." 

Until now she had managed not to think of Viserion, but at these words all that pain came back. She remembered that she had not only lost Jorah that day and… and it was just too much... 

"I wish I could take it back. I wish we had never left." 

Tears came to her eyes again but she shook her head, "I don't... if you hadn't left, I wouldn't have seen it. Only those who see it can know." 

Well, Jorah had seen it and immediately believed he had to stop it himself. Why was he doing this to her? Or did he not care about her anymore? 

"Now I know..." 

She had lost her bear and one of her dragons because of those creatures. There was probably no better way to know. 

"The dragons are my children. The only children I will ever have. Do you understand?" 

She wanted Jon to understand her. She wanted one person in this damned world to understand what she was going through. 

The King in the North nodded. 

"We will destroy the Night King and his army," she promised, noticing the sudden anger that rose inside her. 

"And we will do it together. You have my word on that." 

Jon swallowed. 

"Thank you, Khaleesi." 

At this, her anger subsided somewhat and she looked at him, astonished. 

“Khaleesi?” 

She saw Jorah’s smile heard his voice… No one could say Khaleesi the way he could. She was so wrapped up in memories of happier times with Jorah by her side that she totally missed Jon's point. 

“Yes… my Dothraki might not be the best but I know what Khaleesi means… My queen,” he explained whereupon she blinked, perplexed. Was he serious? 

"I'd bend the knee, but..." 

"What about those who have sworn allegiance to you?" 

"They will come to their senses and see you for what you are." 

She inhaled sharply and automatically squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

It hurt to hear those words from Jon and not her bear, but it felt good that at least someone believed in her and supported her. 

"I hope I deserve it," she said in a brittle voice. 

"You do," Jon assured her, touching her wounded heart with those simple words. 

A little startled by this, she wanted to pull her hand out of his, but he held it tightly. His eyes begged her to stay. But she couldn't. Not when he managed to awaken feelings in her as only Jorah could… or so she had thought.

She recognised King's Landing and the Red Keep from afar as well as Cersei's fleet in the Blackwater Bay and her army in front of the city wall. That was all she saw, but it was enough to give her a sense of the tense atmosphere behind the city walls and amongst the citizens. 

Drogon screeched at this sight and Rhaegal replied the same. They didn't seem to like it either, though they were far more dangerous than Cersei’s entire army put together. 

She circled over the city, made out the dragon pit and directed Drogon to land. He gave another screech and stretched his feet out to set them on the ruins of the old crumbling wall, metres thick. He roared, the sound reaching to the bone and finally lowered his upper body. 

She looked around for a moment. 

Lannister soldiers were standing all around the edge of the pit, staring at the dragon in fright and backing away. Seats had been set up in the centre, covered by red sails. Cersei, her advisors and allies sat in the middle seats. To the right of them was room for the Northerners and to the left was probably her seat and that of her advisors... no, her single advisor and her allies. 

Ignoring the startled faces, she dismounted and walked calmly yet purposefully to her seat. She sat down, not bothering to look around. 

"You’re late," came a cutting voice that had to belong to Cersei. 

"Forgive me," she apologised, but didn't actually mean it. 

When no one else said anything, she gave Tyrion a look, who sighed and stood up. 

"We have gathered today to-." 

"Theon!" he was then interrupted by a man she didn't know. 

She guessed he was Euron Greyjoy by the kraken at his chest plate. 

"I have your sister... If you don’t kneel before me here and now, I will kill her." 

Confused, all eyes turned to him. 

What for the sake of the seven did this overly arrogant guy want? 

Theon himself was merely staring at him. Perhaps with a hint of fear in his gaze. 

"I think we should move on to bigger things," Tyrion said. 

"Then why are you speaking?" the elder Greyjoy grinned maliciously.

"You are the smallest thing in sight." 

"And we're back to dwarf jokes..." smiled the addressed one. 

As long as this fight remained verbal, he clearly had the advantage. 

"Do you remember our conversation about dwarf jokes, Theon?" 

Theon nodded, a grin on his lips, "It wasn't even a good one. He explained it." 

"Exactly, that ruins everything! You're a bad joke teller, Euron Greyjoy." 

The latter stood up and approached Tyrion threateningly. 

"Do you know what they do to your kind on the Iron Islands? They drown them while they are still children to spare their parents the pain and shame. If only they had done that to you..." 

Tyrion was about to retort something when Cersei interfered. 

"Sit back down, Euron." 

He made no move. 

"Sit-back-down!" 

This time a giant of a man took a step forward. Euron seemed to get the warning and reluctantly took his seat. 

"Thank you," Tyrion smiled coolly and finally continued. 

"As we have just been perfectly demonstrated: We can't stand each other and probably never will be able to. We have caused each other suffering that can never be forgotten… But we wouldn't be here if we wanted to carry on like this." 

Cersei snorted. 

"So you want us to put our differences aside and live together in harmony, fairy-tale alike? Happy ever after!" 

"No," Jon's voice rang out and he stood up to join Tyrion. 

"It is only a matter of life. The same enemy is out to get us all. A general who will not tolerate negotiation. An army that will not leave bodies on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion told me earlier that a million people live in this city. If we do nothing, they will soon belong to this army. The army of the dead." 

"I'm sure it would be an improvement for most," Cersei replied impassively. 

Jon took a step towards her. 

"The situation is serious. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." 

"I don't think there's anything serious about it. It's just another bad joke. If my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you are asking me for a truce?" 

"Correct," Daenerys replied. 

"Nothing more..." 

Cersei smiled in response, "Nothing more? Draw off my armies and put them on hold while you go monster hunting… or consolidate and expand your power? I will just find out when you smash the gates of my capital with four times as many men as you have now." 

Oh please, did she really think she would open the gates with battering rams? 

"Your capital is safe until the danger in the north is averted. You have my word on that." 

"The word of a possible usurper." 

"No amount of talk will succeed in undoing the last fifty years. We all know that," Tyrion interfered again before there could be any more trouble. 

"That's why we brought you something." 

At that moment, Sandor Clegane came out of a tunnel, on his back the box with the wight in it. Tyrion and Jon took a few steps aside and all watched the Hound as he opened the crate. He ripped the lid off and quickly jumped back. 

Dany stopped breathing, waiting tensely. 

Nothing happened. What was wrong? 

Cautiously, Clegane came a little closer again and then, all of a sudden kicked against the box, knocking it over. 

Immediately shrieking and hissing began and the wight was about to lunge straight at Cersei. Just before it reached her, the Hound snapped the chain that was fastened around his neck and the dead man flew back in a high arc. 

She would have laughed at the sight of Cersei's face had the situation not been so serious. 

The creature ran towards the Hound, who had already drawn his sword and mercilessly cut the attacker in two. That did not stop him from continuing to crawl towards him. He reached out his hand to the man, which he then lost. 

Dany averted her eyes. 

If this dead man lost one more damn body part, she would throw up. 

Jon walked unblinkingly towards the hand and picked it up. Davos came up with a torch, which he handed to his lord, and a flint. The torch was lit and the Onion Knight backed away. 

"Fire..." 

Jon rose the torch a little higher. 

"...can destroy them." 

He set the hand ablaze and dropped it to turn to the upper body. 

He drew his dagger. 

"And dragonglass..." 

He grabbed the dead man by one arm and jammed the blade into his chest. 

"...can destroy them." 

He looked at Cersei again. 

"This-." 

His finger pointed at the corpse. 

"-is our future if we don't band together and fight them." 

Euron suddenly rose and approached the body in disgust. 

"Can they swim?" 

"No. Not that I know of," Jon replied. 

The Greyjoy nodded, "I've sailed around the world and seen thousands of beasts... This is the first time I've been scared. I'm returning to my island." 

He turned to Daenerys. 

"I suggest you do the same. When this is over, we'll be the only ones left alive." 

Without another word, he turned and walked away. 

A depressed silence fell. 

"He is a coward... rightly so, though," Cersei then broke it. 

"I must confess that I would not have believed you without that thing as proof." 

"I hadn't believed it either until I saw them for myself," Daenerys confessed. 

"How many are there?" asked Jaime, his voice laced with a hint of fear. 

"A hundred thousand... at least," she replied, "which is why we can only defeat them together." 

"You are right," the other queen unexpectedly agreed with her. 

"All our suffering would have been in vain if we did not stop them. The losses in the past wars for nothing. People would have died for nothing. We cannot allow that... We will fight with you." 

Surprised, everyone looked at her. 

This had been too easy somehow. 

"If..." 

Oh... there it came. 

"... the King in the North extends the truce and stays where he belongs. In the North. I know that as Ned Stark's son, you will keep your word." 

Daenerys bit her lower lip and met Jon’s gaze. 

"You are right. I am a man of my word. At least I try... that's why I can't consent. I cannot serve two queens." 

Deadly silence fell. 

That idiot... What had he done? 

Cersei rose to her feet. 

"Very well, then. There is nothing more to discuss." 

Before they could stop her, the Lannisters made their way back to the keep. Daenerys looked after her in disbelief and walked to Jon. 

"Listen: I appreciate your loyalty, but you just destroyed everything! My dragon died for this!" 

She would have liked to slap him, but she could still hold back. 

"I know, and I'm sorry too, but-." 

"Didn't you think of lying just once? One damn time?" 

"If-." 

"You could have saved people's lives! Since when is honour above such things?" 

"I didn't say it for my honour!" he snapped at her. 

"If we all started lying, our word wouldn't be worth anything! That's why I did it!" 

"You're right, Snow..." the voice of Tyrion sounded behind her, "but so is our Queen. You could have saved lives." 

"There must be another way to convince her..." muttered Jon dejectedly. 

Daenerys snorted. She hoped so... for his sake. 

"There is," her hand said. 

"I'll talk to her." 

"No," she said sharply. 

"I have no intention of losing my hand." 

"Believe me, I don't want my sister to kill me either. I couldn't give her that satisfaction." 

He smiled. 

"Let me talk to her, Your Grace." 

She hesitated for a moment. 

If she lost Tyrion, she would have no advisor. No one she could trust and discuss battle plans with. None of her subordinates except Tyrion knew Westeros well enough. But if that was her only chance... 

"Very well. However, should you die, I will never forgive you." 

Tyrion nodded and made his way to his sister. 

"I hope for your sake he manages to convince her," she growled, addressing Jon, and went back to her seat to sit down. 

Would Jorah have done that? Would Jorah have made Cersei a promise he couldn't keep if it meant that all this wasn't for nothing? 

The question pained her... 

On the one hand, of course, his word did indeed mean a lot to him, but on the other hand, he had done something like this before, when he sold those poachers and then escaped to Essos. He had broken his oaths for the sake of his wife. This time he would break his word for her. For Viserion. And for the North, of course. 

She looked at one of the currently empty seats next to her and tried to imagine him sitting there. His dark hair neat, his azure eyes fixed on Jon. 

She shook her head, confused. 

Why Jon of all people? 

She could almost hear her knight's voice. 

_You shouldn't judge him for not wanting to lie..._

Why was he defending him? 

_I probably would have lied, but Cersei wouldn't have trusted me in the first place, anyway._

He could have saved people's lives by doing so! 

_And who's to say Cersei would have kept her word? What makes you so sure she's not playing games with you?_

Because... because... she didn't know. It would be utterly dishonourable for her to promise something that she then wouldn’t uphold... Oh... 

_Did you really buy Euron Greyjoy's theatrics?_

What? Where came that from?! 

She thought about it. 

His first impression... He seemed like a conceited bastard who thought he was better than everyone else. It didn't seem like he was actually afraid of anything. Rather that his fears spurred him on. He loved adrenaline and didn't want to live a life until he lived it properly. 

"No..." she muttered. 

_Good. Because neither did I._

She looked back to the seat next to her and was surprised to find it empty. 

What had just happened!? 

She glanced at Jon. He was talking to Davos, seeming rather unhappy. 

Dany sighed. 

Reluctantly, she stood up and walked slowly to him. When the Onion Knight saw her coming, he fell silent and excused himself. When he was gone, Jon turned his gaze to her. 

"I'm sorry, really. More than anyone else here... I probably blew our only chance after you did so much to get it in the first place. I don't regret it though. I won't promise anything I-." 

"I know," she interrupted him before he could get any fluff out of his mouth. 

"And I accept it. I understand why you wouldn’t lie." 

His look was surprised and his mouth slightly open. 

"Thank you." 

"Do you even think she would have actually helped us? Even if you had complied with her demand, I mean," she asked. 

Jorah was right. Why did they even trust her? Wait, what? She hadn’t even spoke to Jorah! Or had she? 

Confused, she shook her head which her counterpart luckily didn't notice. 

"Well, I hope so... I thought if we were honest, she could be honest too." 

"You really think that would have worked? With her?" 

"Maybe-." 

"Even I'm not naive enough to trust her." 

"I know, and it's probably for the best, but why would she lie? What good are the Seven Kingdoms to her if everyone is dead?" 

"Maybe you should have told her that when she was still around..." 

Depressed silence fell. 

Suddenly footsteps sounded and as they turned, they caught sight of Tyrion... followed by his sister and her soldiers. She gave Jon a penetrating look. 

If Cersei asked him again, he had to agree with her! 

But he shook his head almost imperceptibly, knowing exactly what Daenerys was thinking. She looked slightly questioningly at Tyrion, but he only smiled. At least Cersei seemed to have something remotely good to say. 

"I will not withdraw my armies." 

Oh well… 

"I will not call them to King's Landing and wait for you to defeat the Night King and his army." 

Daenerys was now genuinely confused. 

"I will send my armies north to fight with you. We can only get through this together and when this is over, perhaps you will remember that I helped you." 

She stared at Dany with an icy stare. 

"I'm not asking for promises from anyone. We will support you even so..."

"The bulk of the Unsullied can move north with the Dothraki on the Kingsroad, while we sail by ship to White Harbour," Jon said, pointing to the spot on the table that represented White Harbour. 

"From there we can move to the Kingsroad and join your soldiers to ride to Winterfell." 

Daenerys nodded. 

They had arrived back at Dragonstone today and had gathered immediately to discuss how they would get north. 

_Daenerys... You know that it’s not safe... You have thousands of enemies in the north thanks to your father. All it takes is one well aimed bolt shot and you're dead! Fly with Drogon to Winterfell... please._

She swallowed. 

Why was Jorah here again?! He was at the wall... wasn't he? 

She glanced at him for a moment, then looked around. No one else seemed to have heard him. 

Had she gone mad? 

"Urm... I don't want to conquer the North, I want to save it... so I'll be sailing and marching with you, not flying on my dragons." 

At those words everyone looked at her, confused. She started feeling uncomfortable and just wanted to lock herself in her chamber. 

"When can we cast off?" 

"I think... the day after tomorrow should work," Jon replied, probably wanting to add something, but Daenerys was already on her way to her room. 

"Good, let me know if there's... anything else important." 

She was hurrying through one of the corridors when she stopped abruptly. Slowly, she took two steps back. 

Wasn't this Jorah's chamber? 

He hadn't stayed long at Dragonstone, but of course he still had needed a chamber... And since he had never come back... 

She pressed the handle and entered. 

Hesitantly she looked around. 

What did she hope to gain from this? Besides, there was nothing here... Typical Jorah. He didn't have much and what he did have, he always carried with him. Except when she had banished him... 

He had left almost everything behind. Even his armour! Out of anger, she had ordered Missandei to see that it was disposed of. Dany had regretted it only a few days later... When she had told her friend, she had smiled embarrassed and confessed that she had suspected something like that and that was why she had kept the armour. She had stared at her scribe in disbelief and then had the armour locked away in a box... a box she still had. 

She blushed at the thought. 

Fortunately, he knew nothing about it... 

Cautiously, she groped her way to the bed and sat down. 

Of course, the mattress was cold, as was the messy fur thrown to one side, but she was filled with an inner warmth as she looked at the pillow. She could almost picture him lying there, sleeping... 

She had watched him sleep countless times. It was the only time he really looked vulnerable. As if he needed someone to guard his dreams. But didn't they all need that? 

She sighed and let herself roll over to her side to bury her face in the pillow. 

Why had he had to leave her? Did he really think the country needed him more than she did? 

Suddenly she heard footsteps in the corridor and she remembered that she had not closed the door again. Immediately she was sitting upright again, a little dishevelled, but sitting all the same. 

The footsteps stopped for a moment and then approached her. Jon Snow appeared in the doorway. 

"Oh... urm... what are you doing here?" he chuckled shyly and clearly embarrassed at having just walked in on her. 

"I thought this was Ser Jorah's room..." 

"It was," she said shortly and stood up. 

"I..." 

Good excuse. Good excuse. Damn it she needed a good excuse. 

"I checked to see if he left anything important behind." 

Aside from her broken heart... 

"You know... so I can send them to the wall before we set sail." 

That actually sounded believable... She should be proud of herself! 

"I see..." he murmured and then entered the room too, looking around. Probably just so he wouldn't have to look at her. 

This situation was anything but comfortable. Why, she did not know herself. It was as if there was something in the air... a tension that neither of them could break. 

"I'm sure his father would be proud to hear that he has joined the Night's Watch," the other said, then looked at her after all. 

"I'm glad too, to be honest. The Night's Watch-." 

"-can use every man they can get. Yeah, I know." 

She rolled her eyes and then returned his gaze. 

Wait, had they been standing this close all along? 

A tingle spread through her chest and quickly filled her entire body. She had held her breath... and then pressed herself against Jon to kiss him. He seemed to have been waiting for something like this and immediately returned her kiss. He pushed the door shut and together they stumbled back. 

Eventually they landed on the bed. On Jorah's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, I know that scene in the end with Jon and Daenerys had no chemistry or anything else at all lol I swear, it was okay in German but... apparently it didn't work out in English :/


	40. the fall of the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short so I thought, why not post it right away? I think ending this year with the last chapter of part five is a good way to end it... I will start in January with the last part, part 6. And honestly... I really like the last part lol

Jorah had to admit that he was freezing. 

He hadn't been cold since their trip behind the wall which was strange... clearly, something was wrong. It was literally in the air, but he didn’t know what. 

"Mormont!" the voice of Beric sounded behind him and he turned to the other knight. 

Neither of them had taken the oath yet, neither of them being particularly keen to seek out a weirwood behind the wall. And if Jorah swore that damn oath, it would only be under the eyes of the nameless Gods of the Forest. So, they were still both knights and still not forgiven of their sins. 

"What is it, Dondarrion?" 

"There is news from Dragonstone. Thought you’d be interested..." 

Of course, he was interested! 

He had not spent a single day here that he had not thought of Daenerys! Oh well... how could he when that was pretty much the only interesting thing he could think about? He kept reliving the day she had made her way back to Dragonstone and each time his heart tightened. That kiss... 

He knew that pushing her away had been the right thing to do and yet it didn’t feel right. It just… He didn't want to make it any harder than it already was. It would break both their hearts... or rather break them even more… Even though he couldn't imagine that was possible. 

Right now, his heart was frozen anyway... as was the whole damn rest of him. Even his brain seemed to be working slower than usual! What was it with this coldness?! This wasn't normal anymore! Of course, he would never admit that he was cold, especially not in front of a Southerner. 

But he too seemed to be shivering a little. 

"Jon, has written that the North can hope for the support of Daenerys and Cersei. They are gathering at Winterfell..." 

"That's... that's great news!" laughed Jorah in surprise, his hot breath forming a huge cloud. 

Then his joy disappeared. 

"How did they convince Cersei to join them? I thought the plan was just to call a truce." 

He was sure that neither Daenerys, nor Tyrion, not even Jon would demand support from Cersei. They would be making too much of an advance. So, the suggestion had to come from Cersei herself and that meant that... it certainly couldn't be trusted! 

Why would she do that if they didn't even ask her to!? Why should she risk losing men in a battle that was none of her business yet? 

"Did he write anything else?" 

"Only that Euron Greyjoy exposed himself as a coward during the meeting and fled and-." 

"Wait!", Jorah interrupted him, forcing himself to focus. 

Euron Greyjoy... Euron Greyjoy... he knew the name, but nothing more. 

"Do you know Euron?" he asked the other. 

"Yes... met him a few times. He's been on a crazy journey, if the rumours are to be believed. He claims to have been everywhere all around the world." 

Jorah nodded. 

That meant he'd seen all sorts of things. And that didn't sound like a man who would run away. That combined with Cersei's promise... It had to be a trap! Why hadn't anyone noticed this! Why was Tyrion so stupid?! 

"I must send a raven to Dragonstone..." he muttered and was about to leave, but Beric stopped him. 

"Don't you want to hear the rest of the message first?" 

He hesitated for a moment. 

His intention was really important, but what did another minute change? 

"What else did he write?" 

"He and Daenerys are probably sailing for White Harbour right now and then joining their soldiers on the King's Road. So, it makes no sense for you to send a letter to Dragonstone." 

"Wait. She's planning to ride on the Kingsroad? Through the north?!" 

What kind of things happened when he didn't keep an eye on her for once?! Maybe he should go back to her after all... He still could. It wasn't too late. 

"I suppose she wants to show the people that she is not there as an enemy..." 

"But her safety stands above everything!" 

"Don't tell that to me, Mormont." 

"Then who?!" 

He paced back and forth, upset. 

He couldn't send a raven to a ship. Maybe he could write to Winterfell and hope they would arrive in time to read his message. However, that didn't solve the problem that she was planning to ride. On a horse. The Mother of Dragons. In the Nor-. 

Ok he had to stop worrying. 

She had two dragons and an army, both of which could take good care of her. 

Suddenly his eye caught something at the edge of the forest, many hundreds of metres below them. Beyond the wall... It was a single rider. Dondarrion had spotted him too. 

Slowly Jorah stepped to the edge of the shelter and strained to see what was going on down there. Behind the rider came another human from the forest... no. Wait. Not a human. A wight! 

What... what were they doing?! 

While he was still trying to process what was happening, more dead stepped out of the forest. 

"What in the name of all Seven Hells...?" 

Tormund appeared between them, "What's wrong?" 

Jorah simply pointed at the White Walker and the dead behind him. 

A blast of a horn sounded. 

A second. 

And a third. 

A chill ran down his spine. This probably explained where the cold had come from... 

Abruptly, the wights stopped again. 

Confused, Jorah exchanged a glance with the other two. What was go-? 

A screech sounded. 

"Oh no...", he muttered and backed away. 

He knew that screech... it sounded distorted and preternaturally loud, but he recognized it. The others realized what his problem was. Just then the dragon burst out of the clouds and gave another bloodcurdling scream. 

"Viserion..." 

The dragon opened its mouth. 

The knight knew what that meant. 

"We have to get out of here...! Now!" 

And just then the first blue flame burst from the dragon's maw. 

"RUN!"


	41. Winterfell

Darkness... 

Fear filled them all, making them creep tensely through the corridor. 

They had made it to the Last Hearth in an estimated week. On foot. The wall had been destroyed and they were lucky to escape in time. 

Ahead of them, from the corridor around the corner, they heard slow footsteps. They were about to find out if it was a group of wights or humans. Tormund led the way and Beric held his hand ready to ignite his sword. They exchanged glances, then without warning they leapt around the corner. They all cried out, startled, when they saw the others. 

"Stay back! He has blue eyes!" one of them shouted. Whether he meant Tormund or Jorah was the question. 

Tormund replied, "I've always had blue eyes!" 

"He can talk!" 

"Because I'm fucking alive!" 

Silence prevailed for a moment. Then they all let out a sigh and lowered their weapons. 

Although he didn't know the men, he was relieved. They were probably brothers of the Night's Watch too. 

"Where do you come from?" he asked tensely. 

Jorah guessed that the Night King had attacked the other castles at the wall first before marching further south with even more men. 

"Castle Black. The attack came unexpectedly overnight. I think the four of us are the only ones who managed to escape." 

"There are only three of us… We come from East Watch," Beric muttered and nodded in the direction they thought the Hall of House Umber was. 

"Have you checked for survivors yet?" 

"No. We feared stepping into a trap." 

"Then we'll have to look now..." 

With joined forces – which still was not much - they groped cautiously in said direction, weapons risen. The air was not as cold as it had been at the wall during the attack, but perhaps that was only because they were in a castle and the wind did not penetrate here. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived in the hall. 

Startled, they looked around. 

The tables had been knocked over, some had been broken into pieces and there was blood everywhere. But no corpses. Of course not. 

"Oh, good Lord..." he heard Beric whisper and turned to the knight. 

Dumbfounded, he stared at a wall lit by the flames of his sword. 

Jorah's mouth went dry when he saw what his friend meant. 

"Is that young Umber?" 

"Probably..." 

A body had been pinned to the wall, impaled on a spear. 

"Is that a sign?" 

"Why would he do that?" 

"Why is he doing anything at all?" 

Silence. 

Suddenly the corpse snapped its blue eyes open and immediately, a long-drawn screech pierced the cold air. Everyone cried out in fright and covered their ears. 

"Seven hells!" roared Jorah, barely hearing his own voice. 

Beric overcame himself to pick up his sword and pierce the blade throw the boys chest. The boy fidgeted for a moment, then he went limp. 

"What-was-that?!" gasped Jorah in shock. 

No one knew the answer. 

Even from the distance he recognised Winterfell and its sight filled him with relief. They had finally made it! 

Tormund slowed down. 

"So, this is Winterfell... And humans are supposed to have built this?" 

"So, they say." 

"I don't believe the sayings." 

They all had to smile and continued on their way. 

A camp had been set up outside the walls. The Unsullied! 

They didn't have to cross it, though, as it was on the south side of the castle and they were coming from the north. There were, however, some people outside the gates digging trenches or placing catapults. 

They knew about the army of the dead! That took a load off his mind... 

They strode into the castle courtyard without being stopped, eying the hard-working soldiers and feeling somewhat useless for just standing there. Everyone seemed too busy to notice them. 

Jorah didn't know if he should like that. 

Anyone could get in here. Really anyone. Who was guarding the queen when he wasn't around? 

His guilty conscience began to gnaw at him. 

How had he ever thought the Watch needed him more than Daenerys? 

"Don't look so glum, Mormont!" he heard Beric's voice. 

"Expecting a welcome feast, were you?" 

"Just let him look glum in these times... we're all going to die soon, isn't that reason enough?" muttered Edd, also called Dolorous Edd and it became clearer to the knight with each passing day why. 

"Optimistic as ever...", he muttered and turned around when he heard hurried footsteps. 

"You made it!" exclaimed Jon in disbelief, almost running towards Edd. Just before he reached him, Tormund intercepted to pull him into a fierce hug and laughed, "My little crow." 

Jon chuckled incredulously as he recognised his friend and then turned to the others. Edd he hugged too and Beric he shook hands with a smile. When he got to Jorah, his expression turned serious. 

"I guess it wasn't such a good idea to join the Night's Watch after all." 

"Well, I survived it, didn't I?" smirked Jorah, grasping Jon's outstretched hand. 

Somehow something still seemed to be bothering the other, but he didn't say what it was. That worried the knight a little, but he remembered his urge to speak to Daenerys, as he had to tell her about Cersei, and forgot about it. 

"Where is the queen? I need to speak to her." 

"I expected nothing less...," Jon said and called a man over to lead him to Dany's chamber. 

The knight nodded gratefully and followed the man. He wasn't walking slowly, but it still not fast enough for the knight’s liking. He needed to get to her. Immediately! 

They arrived at the door and the man excused himself. Jorah swallowed. 

Alright. Somehow that was too fast. A moment ago, he had been at the wall and now he was standing here again. 

What exactly was he supposed to say? 

Their last conversation had not exactly been the best concluded one. 

Should he just pretend it had never happened? 

He shook his head. 

There were more important things now! 

He knocked on the door. 

"Come in..." 

She sounded annoyed. 

Would he bother her? Should he come back later? 

Panicking, he stared at the door handle. 

What was going on? Was this happening again? Seriously?! 

Before he could reach for the handle himself, he heard footsteps and the door was yanked open. He lifted his gaze and stared into her violet eyes that widened in disbelieve. 

“Jorah…” 

His mouth dropped open, but no sensible words would come out. 

"Forgive me. I didn't mean- I can come back later-." 

He fell silent as Daenerys wrapped her arms around him. 

"Thank the gods, you're still alive!" 

Her sobbing surprised him and he was too taken aback to think about his actions. He returned the embrace, closing his eyes. 

She let go of him far too soon and met his gaze, which was happy but quickly turned serious. 

He was about to tell her his apprehension when her hand shot up and slapped against his cheek. Mild anger flared up in him, but it was surpassed by pain and shock. 

The fact that she had done that hurt more than the blow itself, but his face still burned. 

He held his cheek and returned her gaze, surprised. 

She seemed amazed herself. 

"And what was that for?" he growled, noticing how the pain slowly faded away. 

"I told you not to join the Night’s Watch and you did it anyway! You could have died!" 

He swallowed. 

"I'm sorry..." 

She didn't reply, so he mumbled on. 

"But that's not really why I'm here." 

Daenerys looked up and down the corridor, then gestured for him to enter her room. 

"Why are you here then?" 

"I heard about Cersei's promise. That she will help the North, I mean." 

Her eyes widened slightly at his words. 

Why was she so surprised that he knew about it? 

He tried to ignore it and continued, "I don't think that's true; I think she's planning something. Cersei would never just help the North like that. And then there's Euron Greyjoy..." 

Daenerys turned away from him and he interrupted himself. 

"What is it?" he asked after all. 

"We already know about that thanks to Jaime Lannister. He arrived here yesterday and confessed that his sister has no intention of fighting for the North."

"What?! Then why did he come?" 

"He said he has sworn to fight with us and has no intention of breaking that promise." 

Jorah blinked, perplexed. 

"And as for Euron... thanks to Bran, we know he didn't actually sail back to the Iron Islands, but to Essos to approach the Golden Company and bring them to Westeros," Dany explained, now looking at him again. 

So many questions were buzzing in his head, but he could not formulate any of them cleverly. 

"And why, in the first place, did you think you could trust Cersei?" he then tried. 

"Tyrion seemed convinced... though I had my doubts too." 

She hesitated for a moment, as if to add something, however she changed her mind. 

"But how did you know we could not trust Cersei? How did you know something was wrong? You weren't even there." 

Now that he thought about it that way, it was indeed a little strange. 

"I... don't know. I made it up with the information I had." 

She nodded slowly. 

"I see... is there anything else? I think I'll have to go to a meeting to discuss the battle plan if not." 

For a few seconds he just started at her. 

It was so good to see her again… and yet it didn’t feel the way it should. 

Jorah shook his head. 

There was nothing more to discuss… He regretted going after his father’s last wish as he now was no longer in Dany’s service. He felt like an outsider… But then, to whom did he belong? The Night's Watch no longer existed and even if it did, he wasn't a real brother yet. 

He felt kind of lonely. 

Daenerys smiled and headed off to the meeting. He actually thought she had really gone and left him behind, but after a moment she reappeared in the doorway. 

"You are still a knight?" 

He bowed his head, "Aye." 

"You are still my knight?" 

He looked up again. 

Her eyes gleaming and her smile as warm as he had not seen it in a long time. 

"Aye..."

"The Night King has more than twice as many men as we do..." muttered Jon, looking at the table where a map had been spread out and a few figures had been placed. 

"The only chance we have is to kill the Night King." 

"If that’s so, he will never show himself," Daenerys countered. 

"He will hide somewhere and wait for the battle to pass." 

"Then we must lure him out of hiding. The question is how we are going to do that." 

"By using me as bait," Bran's voice came from the shadows of the room. 

He had been sitting there all along, silently watching the others. Just like Jorah... only he was standing. 

Everyone turned to the boy. 

"Why you of all people?" asked a girl that had to be Arya Stark. 

And if he was being honest, she was one if not seven hells of a girl. She didn't seem like the kind of Lady who walked around in dresses waiting for her Prince Charming. 

Her sister Sansa was different. 

She had seemingly given up hope on said prince and yet she had that lady-like something about her that the other didn't possess. Neither seemed taken with her brother's idea. 

"You know that I am the Three-Eyed Raven... I carry the memory of the world. And you know what the Night King wants." 

No, they did not…? 

Finally, Sam took the floor. 

Jorah hadn't been able to greet him yet, but he was glad to have him here. Even if he would probably be safer in the south. 

"He wants to bring death to the world. And death brings oblivion..." 

Now the others understood too. 

"Right. He’s going to be after me, and he’s going to find me no matter where I am." 

The boy stretched out his arm and showed them his forearm, revealing a handprint that was somehow... frozen into the skin. 

"He marked me. He always knows where I am." 

"Bran, that's too dangerous," Sansa said worriedly, but obviously already knew that she couldn't stop her brother. 

"If it means defeating the Night King, then I will take that risk," he objected, as expected. 

"I will wait for him in the Gods Wood." 

"Do you even hear what you’re saying? This is far too-." 

"The Ironborn will be at your side," Theon interrupted the Lady of Winterfell, looking from her to the boy. 

"I took your home once... a crime I can never repay. But I will defend you now." 

Bran returned his gaze expressionlessly. 

"Very well, then. The Ironborn will be with me. Isn't that enough?" 

Jon sighed, "We won't be able to change your mind anyway." 

He propped himself up on the table. 

"The Ironborn are with Bran in the Gods Wood." 

He placed a couple of the figures on said spot. 

"The Mormonts will be in the castle courtyard, tending to the manning of the walls." 

"The archers of the Free Folk will support them," Tormund said with certainty in his voice. 

"We will spread all the archers around the walls." 

"But not the Dothraki," the queen interjected. 

"They will fight only on the backs of their horses." 

"I know... We'll talk about their position in a moment." 

He moved a few figures into the castle courtyard to represent the Mormonts. 

Jorah once again got a queasy feeling in his stomach. Wasn't he supposed to fight beside them? 

One last time. For his house. 

He shook his head. 

No. He had pledged himself to Daenerys. 

"We will place the Unsullied outside the walls with the catapults. In front of the trench. If they are overpowered, Grey Worm will cross the bridge and close the trench. Davos will signal for one of the dragons to light it so it will stop the dead for a moment. Next to the Unsullied, all the remaining men will be placed. That means the Knights of the Vale and the Free Folk along with the rest of the Northerners. The Unsullied, in the centre, commanded by Grey Worm, the Knights of the Green Vale, right flank, by Yohn Royce, the Free Folk, left flank, by Lady Brienne and Tormund." 

When Jorah looked at the wildling, he had to control himself not to laugh out loud. 

The look he gave Brienne... 

He stared down at his feet so no one would see his smirk. However, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. 

Jon ruined the moment. 

"I was thinking we could split the Dothraki up so they attack the Army of the Dead from the left and right when they're about to go for the Unsullied, Right and Left Flank." 

They considered for a moment. 

"That sounds good," Daenerys then agreed. 

Jon nodded relieved. 

"Good... who will command them?" 

The queen looked to Jorah. He returned her gaze in surprise and had to clear his throat, "I... should be with you, Khaleesi." 

She shook her head. 

"I'm riding Dro-." 

"That's too dangerous! What if-?" 

"Ser Jorah, you will not change my mind. I will help, and I can do that best on Drogon's back." 

"Then at least let me fly on Rhaegal!" 

As soon as he said that, she blushed and the air began to tingle uncomfortably. 

"What? What's wrong? Rhaegal is fine, isn't he?" 

Fear for the dragon rose in his chest. 

Had something happened to him? 

"He's fine..." muttered Dany, still unable to look at him. 

"I'm already flying with Rhaegal." 

His heart faltered for a moment. Slowly… oh so slowly he turned to Jon. 

"WHAT?!" 

He didn't know if he had just thought it or said it out loud, but even if he had only heard the voice in his head, the look on his face would have been enough. 

He turned back to Daenerys. 

What was that supposed to mean? Rhaegal had always been connected to Jorah, not that bastard of the North! 

He had half a mind to simply set the other on fire... with Rhaegal's help, of course. 

"Khaleesi...?" he nearly growled and rose an eyebrow questioningly. 

She was still looking at a spot next to his shoes, but he saw her biting her lower lip in distress. 

Everyone else in the room was either staring at them, transfixed, or trying not to pay attention to them, since this was most definitely only Jorah, Daenerys, and maybe Jon's business. 

"Turns out Rhaegal trusts Jon and lets him ride. Jon and I thought it best to ride the two dragons and look for the Night King. Together we can then defeat him and Viserion." 

But surely, they could do that too! 

"So, will you command the Dothraki?" she steered back to the actual topic. 

Jorah’s face had reddened slightly, so he stared at the floor, feeling like a silly boy. 

"Yes, I will." 

What else could he do?


	42. last conversations

After the meeting, he had immediately set off for a quieter place. 

Jorah didn't have a chamber yet and didn't want one. What good would it do him? The battle would begin in a few hours and he already had his armour on. He was anything but ready for battle, but a chamber certainly wouldn't change that. 

Eventually, he found himself in the library. What exactly he wanted here remained a mystery to him... 

Bored, he looked around. 

Suddenly the door opened and a person - hidden by a pile of books he carried in his arms - came in. Even without seeing the face, he knew who it was. 

"Sam..." 

The other squeaked in fright and almost dropped the books. He quickly set them down and turned to the knight. 

"Ser Jorah! What are you doing here?" 

"I don't quite know, to be honest..." 

Sam seemed to understand him and came closer. 

"You shouldn't spend the last hours we have left alive alone in a library... Well, it sounds really great to me, but... not to you." 

"Where else am I supposed to go? The Dothraki are getting ready, but I'm already ready. I'll never be more ready than I am now." 

"Well... you could seek out Lady Lyanna and wish her luck in the battle." 

Jorah turned pale. 

"Lyanna wants to fight?" 

"Yes," Sam laughed nervously, "crazy, isn't it? She's Mormont through and through." 

The knight's gaze got lost in the distance. 

"But... she's going to die." 

"Probably just as everyone else..." 

"That's not helpful, Sam." 

"Sorry." 

Jorah’s mind was made up, "I have to stop her..." 

"I don't think you can... I'm sorry for speaking this blunt, but you're the last person she'll listen to." 

He gave his friend an offended look, but of course he was right. 

Sam looked down at the floor in dismay. 

"Maybe Jon-." 

"No!" Jorah interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. 

Why Jon? Why always Jon!!! He had Longclaw, he had Rhaegal, the people listened to him and loved him and - he wasn't quite sure on this point yet – he probably had Daenerys. 

Jorah wasn't blind, unfortunately, and had had to watch the two of them exchange glances over the last few hours. After all, he had really tried to like Jon! The worst part was that he actually liked him! But he honestly wanted to hate him! 

Why was Jon so fucking perfect!?

"I'm going to talk to Lyanna. I guess it’s her decision to make if she really wants to fight." 

He didn't care by now if his stupid house died out or if Daenerys fought or not. At this shitty moment, he just didn't care about anything at all. 

Why hadn't he just died of grey scales? Why hadn't he taken his own life long ago? 

No one would care anyway and he had nothing left to live for. Daenerys could take such great care of herself as she had told him and if she failed, Jon was there to protect her. 

He gave a frustrated growl and was about to storm out of the library, but Sam stopped him. 

"Wait!" 

"What?!" he snapped, feeling the anger in his chest swell with every breath he took. 

"I have something for you..." the other said meekly and Jorah began to feel bad for his behaviour. 

He shouldn't be taking his anger out on the only person who still remotely cared for him. 

Sam disappeared behind some shelves for a moment and Jorah half expected him to come back with a book. He reappeared, a Longsword in his hands. 

Wordlessly he handed it to the knight who looked at him in amazement, then turned his eyes to the sword. When he pulled the blade out a little, he recognised the steel immediately. Valyrian steel. 

"It’s called Heartsbane. It's been in my family for several centuries, but... they probably won't need it anymore." 

Jorah swallowed as he remembered what Tyrion had told him a few months ago. Daenerys had burned Sam's father and brother when they wouldn't bend their knee. 

"I can't take this, Sam." 

"Well, then we'll just leave it here and hope someone else comes along who can use it." 

"It's your family sword!" 

"And it’s useless in my hands! Please... take it and defend us all with it." 

He hesitated for a moment. 

"Alright... I will try to prove myself worthy of it." 

"I know you are worthy of it." 

Jorah managed a thin smile. 

"I really should go now and look for Lady Lyanna," he muttered after a few seconds and turned away. 

Sam nodded and picked up his books. 

Reaching the door, the knight looked back at his friend. 

"Sam... thank you. And good luck." 

The latter nodded gratefully and Jorah closed the door behind him. Would he ever see him again? 

Jorah was sure by now that he would not survive this battle. He had no time to mentally prepare for it and that was never good. He hated going into a battle planned out. Which was usually the case and well, he was still alive. So maybe... just maybe there was hope after all. 

He came into the castle courtyard and found himself in chaos. Some sat around enjoying the last moments of their lives with a warm soup, others hurried around making sure everything was as planned. Of course, Lyanna was one of the latter. 

He had almost reached her when someone placed a hand on his shoulder and he wheeled around, startled. 

"Khaleesi?" he stated in amazement. 

She seemed nervous. 

"Can we talk?" 

"Urm sure. What... is it about?" 

"Let's go to the Glass Garden." 

She hooked her arm through his and he realised he was automatically becoming uneasy. 

The garden was quiet... like they were in another world. A better world. It was almost a shame to break this silence. 

“I should have told you about Jon and Rhaegal. I’m sorry, honestly.” 

Oh great, a conversation about Jon, right before they died. Probably their very last conversation. 

Daenerys could read his expression and smiled, “But I guess now is not the right time to talk about Jon Snow.” 

He smirked at how well she knew him, looking down at her. 

“I genuinely doubt there ever will be the right time for that…” 

She rolled her eyes at him and yet she returned his smile. She then stopped to take a closer look at one of the plants. 

The blossoms were closed, but you could still see the beauty of them. 

“Do you think they will ever be able to open up again?” 

He understood that it was a metaphor in some way, but still replied, "Let's just hope the Night King likes flowers... then I'm sure nothing will happen to them." 

He didn’t see her face, but knew she was smiling. 

“And what about you?” 

“What… what do you mean?” he asked, confused, and she turned back around to him, her expression serious again. 

“What about you? The Night King surely does not like you.” 

He picked his next words wisely. 

“I will do what needs to be done. If that means I will lose my life, then I will do that.” 

Daenerys laughed bitterly, but he didn’t get why so he just eyed her questioningly. She pressed her lips together and he noticed the tears in her eyes. 

“Too often I thought to have lost you…” 

Now he understood what all this was about. 

“In Meereen… two times in Meereen. In Vaes Dothrak. At Dragonstone. At the Wall… I don’t want this to ever happen again.” 

He smiled sadly, “I think we’ve lost one another a long time ago… I mean, what is this? What are we doing? W-what is this thing between us two?” 

He had been looking at one of the blossoms, thinking of the time back in Meereen. As he met her gaze again, he could see his pain reflected in her eyes and as they wandered to his lips he knew, she was lost in memories of Meereen as well. 

She had come a step closer and the sheer memory of her hands around his neck, her lips smashing against his, made him almost feel the kiss before he even bent down, close enough for their mouths to meet… but he was stopped by her hand on his chest. 

“You said, we had already lost each other. So, what’s the point of this?” 

“I don’t know,” he breathed and leaned more firmly against her small hand. 

“I guess I don’t want to let go…” 

“And yet you can’t hold onto it hard enough.” 

“Maybe… it needs more than one person to hold onto it.” 

He could feel her hot breath on his lips. 

“I won’t let you die tonight… no matter at what cost,” he whispered. 

“And I won’t let you die either… Promise you won’t give your life for anyone…” 

He chuckled, “I can’t promise that.” 

She placed a finger on his lips as he kept coming closer. 

“Promise it.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can…” 

She took his face in both her hands. 

“Survive this battle for me… I beg you.” 

Her pleading eyes made it impossible for him to deny her anything. 

“I can try...” he said, defeated and with husky voice. 

But it was not the answer Daenerys had wanted to hear. She bit her lip and her gaze fell to the floor in dismay. 

“Good luck, then.” 

He wanted to reply, but she had already turned away and was walking off, presumably to find Drogon and Rhaegal. 

He looked after her, puzzled. 

What... what had just happened? 

Shakily, he expelled his breath. 

Great... What had she done to him? He had thought he was beginning to get over her! 

Lost in thought, he tousled his hair and walked back to the courtyard. He still intended to talk to Lyanna. 

But would she talk to him? Did she even know him? 

When he caught sight of her, his throat tightened. 

She was what? Ten? Fifteen? In any case, her men already respected her more than they ever would respect him again. Well, of course, they did. He didn't even know most of them, since most of his former men had died because of the Red Wedding, but at least some faces were familiar to him. However, he did not remember their names. 

"Lady Lyanna," he finally said, closing his eyes briefly to curse himself. 

She would never listen to him. 

The girl turned and eyed him from head to toe. 

"You're Ser Jorah, aren't you?" 

"Yes, I am." 

He waited to see if she would insult him or go straight for the knife. 

"I'm glad we're meeting," was all she replied and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"How so?" 

"I wanted to ask you something." 

"Go ahead." 

He would have expected anything. Except this. 

"Will you fight with us? For House Mormont." 

His jaw dropped. Yes. Yes! Damn it, of course he would! 

His joy got a slap in the face as soon as he remembered that he was already leading the Dothraki. 

"You are already fighting for your Queen...?" she guessed, but he couldn't tell what she thought of it as her face remained impassive. 

"Yes. I lead the Dothraki." 

"Then I hope for your sake they are good fighters." 

"They are, I just fear they don't take the threat of the dead seriously enough." 

She nodded and was about to turn away again. 

"Wait! I... I was going to ask if you really-." 

"You will not stop me from fighting. No matter what you say or do." 

He returned her determined gaze briefly, then looked to the ground. 

"Alright... but then you must fight as well as your mother did. I don't want our house to go down because of a bunch of dead people." 

"Believe me, I don't want that either. But perhaps you too should try not to die, just in case..." 

"And of what use would that be? I'll never be able to be Lord of Bear Island again. They hate me." 

"Then show them that you have changed and put them first. Show them that you stand up for them. With your current attitude, it's no wonder they despise you. After all, you make it easy for them." 

He wanted to contradict her, to tell her that he was not making it easy for anyone, but he could not. She was right. 

He sighed. 

"I wish we had met sooner." 

"Me too... you really need to learn to be a Mormont again." 

"You're probably right..." 

She smiled, "I'm always right." 

"Milady!" one of her men suddenly called out. 

She gave him a sign, then turned her gaze back to her cousin. 

"Good luck in the battle, Ser Jorah." 

"Thank you... I wish you all the best of luck as well, My Lady." 

And away she went. 

This conversation had turned out surprisingly well... Maybe his family hadn't hated him as much as he had always thought after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is gonna be some killing and slaughtering uwu


	43. the battle of winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, I don't like writing battles that much because I always end up writing the same stuff (at least that's what it feels like)... buuuut I hope you'll still enjoy it xD

The sky was cloudy, but the moon shone brightly and set the scene in silvery matt light. His horse pawed restlessly on the frozen ground and gave an occasional snort. Jorah, too, was restless. 

He was equipped with Dragonglass and the Valyrian sword, yet he was not ready. But who was ever ready for such a thing? 

He looked towards Winterfell. 

The walls were lit by torches and other larger fires. In front of the trench stood the Unsullied, neatly lined up as always and between them the catapults. He knew that to their right were the Knights of the Vale, but it was too dark for him to see them… which was bad, because even further away was the other part of the Dothraki. Hopefully they wouldn't attack too soon... or too late. 

He began to shiver as it grew colder and colder. And he knew why. The Night King was coming with his army and would reach the living soon. 

He heard men shouting something and his gaze immediately darted north. He could just make out vague outlines, then a cloud obscured the moon and darkness prevailed. 

The only light emanated from the castle. 

Orders were shouted and the catapults were called into action. As soon as the first fireball lit up the night sky, his horse reared up in a whinny and he had to bury his hands in its mane to keep from falling off. 

"Easy... easy... we're not going to die..." he muttered and the animal calmed down again. At least it didn't want to throw him off anymore. 

Then, suddenly, a shrill screech sounded and the fireballs hit right into the wights. Briefly they were seen to be on the move and rushing towards Winterfell, then the fire went out again. 

He took a shaky breath, drew his sword and turned to the Dothraki. 

"Perhaps we will die today, but before that we will show these bastards how we spit on them! That we will still destroy them and they cannot keep us down!" 

Most of his drivel was complete bullshit, but it still spurred the Dothraki on. In fact, all one had to do was shout any insults and they were already spurred on. They had their Arakhs drawn and were roaring their approval. 

"FOR US AND OUR KHALEESI!", Jorah then joined in the war cry one last time and was about to turn his horse away again to charge at the defender, who by now had already reached the Unsullied and overwhelmed the front ranks, but a screech above him distracted him. 

Shit. 

The blue flame blasted the back rows first, closing in on him at breakneck speed. The Dothraki had noticed it too and, startled, thrust their heels into their horse’s flanks, but it was too late some. No horse was fast enough to escape a dragon. 

Horrified, Jorah stared up at the sky. 

The Night King was supposed to be hiding! They had not expected him to venture onto the battlefield! 

The noise around him was deafening. 

Hoofbeats. 

Shouts. 

The crackling of flames. 

The blue fire was only a few metres away from him when he heard another dragon's cry and Viserion was jolted out of his flight route. Drogon had attacked him. 

Jorah saw the dragons chase through the air and a third join them, then his horse reared again and followed the Dothraki who were screaming as they pounced on the dead. 

He did not know what the other part was doing, however, he suspected that they had long since joined the battle. 

The front line was just meeting up with the wights and the slaughter had begun. Jorah's horse had reached the dead shortly afterwards and they mowed through the first few metres. The knight himself swung his sword and he could only just keep himself on his horse, but at some point, it buckled and he gave a startled cry as he went down. He immediately got up again and tried to beat back the dead, but it was already over for the animal. 

When he looked around, he saw that not a single horse was standing anymore. He gritted his teeth and continued to fight, but he was pushed back more and more as more and more hands were pulling and more and more blades were lunging at him. 

He could no longer hold his position. 

Suddenly one jumped on him out of nowhere and pulled him to the ground. He gave another strangled cry and managed to pull out one of his daggers to ram the blade into the attacker. He jumped up and found that he had made it to the men of the left flank. 

Intricately, he wiped his sweat- and blood-stained hair from his face and lunged again with his sword. Screaming, he finished off another ten dead, but there were more and more. 

Without notice, a snowstorm had begun and now hit them with full force. At first, he could see nothing, only hear, and it was terrible. Screams of pain mixed with the shrieks caused by the dead. 

All of a sudden, an orange flame burst out of nowhere and burned a path through the enemy’s army. Once again, the dragons had saved them. 

"FALL BACK!" a man behind him roared and they backed away to flee behind the trench. 

"OPEN THE GATE!" 

"GO!" 

"OPEN THE GATE!" 

The gate opened and they all ran inside. 

"GO! FASTER!" yelled someone... was it Lyanna? He didn't know. 

"MAN THE WALLS!" 

Without hesitation, he rushed for the next staircase. In doing so, he almost collided with Sam. 

"What are you doing here! You're supposed to be in the crypts!" 

"I need to fight too!" 

He didn't have time to argue with him, so he just grabbed his arm and pulled him along. 

"We need to man the walls!" 

It was best to be near him. At least then he could keep an eye on him for a bit. 

They hurried up the stairs and placed themselves behind the gaps between the battlements. 

When he saw that the Unsullied who were still fighting but being pushed further and further back, his stomach clenched. He knew they were trained to stand firm, yet it was a terrible thing to watch. 

A single soldier broke away from their ranks and sprinted across the bridge that led over the trench. Grey Worm. He hesitated for a moment, then he yanked a lever, causing the bridge to collapse in. 

"SET THE TRENCH ON FIRE!" 

The order was passed on and Davos gave the signal. The storm had lost some of its intensity, but neither Daenerys nor Jon could see enough to notice it. 

"Come on..." muttered Jorah, pacing. 

"Come on, Daenerys!" 

He gritted his teeth. 

Where was she? Where was Drogon? 

He stopped in shock. 

Was she dead!? 

No. No, no, no! He would have felt it! He would know! 

_Whoosh!_

Explosively, the trench ignited as soon as Rhaegal's fire touched the wood. 

He dropped his shoulders. 

When he looked up to the sky, Rhaegal had already disappeared again. 

Slowly, the knight stepped a little closer to the wall to look down at the trench. It burned metres high, but it would not do so forever. 

A screech from above announced Drogon, and the first line of the wights was set alight. The person on his back in the white cloak and with silver hair was most certainly Daenerys. 

He sighed, relieved. 

She was still alive. 

She destroyed more ranks, but out of nowhere Viserion shot out and grabbed his brother. 

"NO!" he gasped as he briefly thought he saw Dany lose her grip and fall, but she was still sitting, clinging determinedly at Drogon's spikes. The blue dragon let go and disappeared into the clouds. Drogon followed. 

It was not long before the dead had advanced again to the fire, which - Jorah was horrified to see - had already diminished quite a bit. His gaze flitted to a lone wight as he simply walked into the fire. 

What on earth was that all about? 

He gave Sam a puzzled look, but he seemed as perplexed as Jorah himself. 

Another did the same. And another, and so on. At some point the fire had been smothered in that one spot and the bodies served as a bridge to get the dead safely to the other side. 

"Gods be damn..." 

"THEY'RE COMING OVER THE WALLS!" 

Already the first head appeared before him and without thinking about it, Jorah thrust his sword forward. The attacker fell back and disappeared into the crowd below. 

A hand appeared which he simply chopped off, whereupon another appeared and another head. He tried to fight them all off, but eventually the first one made it past his blade and lashed out with his dagger at the knight. He rammed Heartsbane in the attacker’s chest, but in that time two new ones had come up on the wall. 

As he was looking around for a moment, Jorah realised that he was not the only one overpowered. 

He was still gasping for breath but managed to whirl his sword through the air so that he caught three of the wights at once. 

He turned to Sam, who had just collapsed, overwhelmed by the number of opponents. Quickly the knight ran to him and tried to free him, but another suddenly got in his way. He managed to fend off the attack and pierced the blade into him, but when he looked to his friend, he found that more dead men had lunged at him and one was just lashing out with his knife. 

"No!", Jorah groaned and went to chop the hand off the arm, but his sword was intercepted by another. 

Enraged, he pushed the wight out of the way with his foot. But it was too late. 

"SAM!" 

At last, he managed to prise the other wight away from him and free him, but his friend didn’t move. 

“No... no!” 

He pulled off one glove and reached to his friend’s neck to feel his pulse, but all he felt was warm blood coming out of a cut. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, obscuring his vision. A little too vigorously, he wiped them away, straightened up again and let his gaze wander over what was happening in front of him. 

_Crash!_

The gate was broken open and a giant stood in the castle courtyard, a small person in front of him. Lyanna. 

If Jorah hadn't been so heated from the fight, he would have turned pale. 

"No..." he breathed, forcibly leaving Sam behind as he made his way down the stairs. 

"LYANNA!" 

She could not possibly hear him, yet he had to call her name. 

The giant reached out with his hand and knocked her aside. 

His heart faltered as did his legs. Then anger coursed through him and he began to hack even more aggressively than before at the wights around him. He reached the barrier for the dead and tried to squeeze through between the wooden beams, when he saw the girl stir and stand up. 

"LYANNA!" 

This time she heard him and looked back to meet his gaze briefly. She nodded at him and then ran towards the giant, screaming. 

"NO!" 

She did not stop despite his shout. 

The giant grabbed her almost in amusement and lifted her up to face her as he closed his hand even tighter around her ribcage to crush it.

Eyes widened in horror and mouth open, Jorah watched him and could do nothing as he was stuck. 

Lyanna managed to rose her arm and thrust the Dragonglass into the giant with the last of her strength. The giant stopped in shock and disintegrated into pieces shortly afterwards. 

Jorah freed himself from the beams and find a way to his cousin. He slumped down on the ground beside her and grabbed her hand. 

"No… Come on... You can't abandon your men!" 

She opened her mouth only to spit blood as she tried to retort something. Then she went limp. 

Not her too... Why her and not him!? 

Jorah knelt down in front of her to close her eyes. 

"I'm so sorry..." 

He closed his eyes too and was about to rise when she opened hers again. Briefly he thought she was still alive, but then he realised that her eye colour had not been ice blue before. Startled, he stumbled back. More corpses rose around him. 

This... really was not fair. 

Well, at least they couldn't get into the cryp-... wait. 

"Oh, seven hells!" 

He looked around frantically. 

How could they be so stupid? Why hadn't anyone thought of that!? 

He spotted Grey Worm and rushed to him. As he grabbed his friend by the shoulder, he was almost impaled by a spear, but he managed to back away in time. 

"Grey Worm!" 

"Jorah the Andal!" 

"I need your help!" 

The Unsullied fended off a wight and turned back to the knight. 

"For what?" 

"The crypts! If the Night King-." 

He broke off and rammed Heartsbane into an attacker. 

"If the Night King can revive the dead... all the dead..." 

"Missandei?!" 

"We must go to them!" 

His friend nodded and they were about to set off side by side, but Jorah was suddenly distracted by a scream from the distance. 

It was Drogon... and he knew something was wrong. 

"Go find some more men! I have to go somewhere else!" 

Grey Worm didn't have time to ask what was going on, as the knight had already turned away and stormed towards the south gate. 

His lungs were burning, but he only ran faster. 

He couldn't lose Daenerys as well. 

He crossed the trench and found himself on the abandoned battlefield. There was fire everywhere and piles of bodies that had started to move lay around. 

Somewhere in the distance a dragon rose into the air. 

At first, he thought everything was fine, but then he recognised the bodies Drogon was shaking off. 

Where was Daenerys!? 

He fastened his steps again and wanted to call out her name, but that would only attract the attention of the dead and he didn't even have the air in his lungs to just make a sound, at all. A single dead man attacked him, but he simply fought him off quickly and kept running. 

He tasted sweat and blood in his mouth and had to resist the urge to vomit. Jorah blinked and tried to wipe the dirt from his eyes. That was when he spotted a person in a white fur coat. She had been lying on the floor, but she was just about to straighten up. 

Relieved, Jorah ran to her, suddenly noticing the dead man that was about to pounce on her. He heard her gasp fearfully and just before the other one reached her, he was at her side and cut off the Dothraki's head. She looked up at him in shock, but before she could say anything, he had pulled her to her feet and put his arm around her to lead her away from here. He didn't know where to, but he knew they had to get out of here because they were already being stared at by some of the dead and some were even running towards them. 

He looked down at Dany for a moment and then stopped to face them. There was no point in running any further. 

Panting, he blocked an attack and rammed his sword into the dead man's chest. He spun it around again and finished off another. His arms were already numb and his legs wanted to refuse their service, but he forced himself to continue standing upright. 

When no one attacked for a moment, he handed Daenerys one of his daggers. 

"I'm afraid I can't fight each of them off," he coughed in a raspy voice, and turned away, as soon as the next dead came staggering towards them. 

Jorah beheaded it, caught sight of the next one, cut it in two and suddenly felt a blade dig into his side. He gritted his teeth and pushed the attacker off him. Before he could finish him off, Daenerys did it for him. 

"Did he get you?" she asked, afraid for him, and reached out a trembling hand to touch his shoulder gently. 

"No, everything’s f-." 

He broke off when he saw the wight that was stumbling towards his queen. Without a second thought, he threw himself in its path and got a blade pierced into his stomach in return. 

"Jorah!" 

He almost didn't hear Dany... 

Jorah bit his tongue in pain and tasted more warm blood, but he managed to ram his sword into the other and get back up... though he had to lean on Heartsbane. The edge of his vision darkened, but he blinked and forced himself to stay conscious. 

He had to defend Daenerys... He had to stand for his House and stay alive... he had to stay strong, if not for Dany then for Lyanna and Sam. 

The knight gave himself a jolt and rose his sword again to finish off the next dead man and the one after that. 

The next one almost caught him in the face... or had he actually caught him and not just almost? He didn't know. In any case, Daenerys came to his aid and killed the attacker. 

Glancing briefly at her, he thought he heard her take a shocked breath, but before he could ask what was wrong, he had to turn back to stop the next wight. There were more again and he grew dizzier with each blow he delivered. 

Every time he thought he was about to topple over, he caught sight of the next dead and remembered Daenerys standing behind him, surely unable to fight them all alone, so he tried to ignore the burning sensation that filled his whole body. 

His movements became more awkward, but he held his ground. 

His sword still whirled through the air killing anyone who tried to get past him. 

He almost fell into a kind of madness, hearing nothing but his shallow breathing and the whir of his blade. Saw nothing but his opponents and Heartsbane. Felt nothing. 

He let out an angry growl as his sword fell from his hand. But he didn't have time to pick it up, instead he drew his dagger and continued to fight with it, this left him a little more exposed on his left side and soon a sword slashed his entire upper arm. 

Daenerys was at his side again, tending to the wight. 

Briefly no one attacked and he had time to bend down to pick up his sword. In doing so, he buckled and could not rise again. 

"Jorah... please..." he heard Dany's croaky voice. 

Looking up and seeing the crowd of dead coming towards them, he tried to swallow and overcame himself to get back up. He breathed in heavily and just grasped Heartsbane with both hands, when the first wight disintegrated and the one after that... after a second the whole battlefield was paved with motionless corpses. 

Was he imagining things? Was he hallucinating already?! 

He narrowed his eyes, but the sight did not change... 

They had made it. 

Suddenly the exhaustion and pain rolled over him like a wave and he couldn't help but give in. He couldn't tell where his wounds were as his whole body seemed to be on fire and his vision blurred more with each passing second. 

"No!" 

Daenerys collapsed beside him. 

She was unharmed... that was all that mattered. 

"Jorah," she sobbed, trying to lift him in a sitting position, however he couldn't hold his head, so it slumped back. 

"Stay with me... please. Promise… promise me…" 

He wanted to reply, but he couldn't get enough air to even let whisper _Khaleesi_. 

He was sorry... he was so sorry. 

He didn't want to leave her. 

He wanted to be with her. 

She leaned towards him and he felt tears fall on his skin. Her tears. 

She leaned her forehead against his and started rocking back and forth ever so slightly. 

"Don't leave me..." 

He felt her lips brushing over his. Or was he imagining it? 

Then he no longer felt the burning, her tears, her lips... and everything went black. 

His last thought: _I promise_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following "important" characters died during the battle:  
> \- Theon, while trying to defend Bran  
> \- Brienne, when she came to Jaime's aid  
> \- Bran, when he entered the Night King’s mind  
> \- Arya, when she stabbed the Night King  
> \- the Night King, when Bran had him under control for a short time and Arya stabbed him in the heart with the Valyrian Steel Dagger  
> \- Sam, killed by a Wight  
> \- Lyanna, killed by the giant  
> \- Grey Worm, when he was overpowered by the wights in the crypt  
> \- the Dolorous Edd, killed by a Wight


	44. Lord Mormont Part1

He opened his eyes. It took him a moment to focus them on one particular thing, but then he recognised stone walls and wooden beams. 

He was lying in a room. 

He felt no pain. 

Was he dead? 

He took a deep breath and… ah yes, there it was. The pain shot through him like an electric surge. Horrified, he curled up and automatically grabbed his stomach, but that only caused more pain and he slumped back into the sheets, eyes glazed over. 

So, he was not dead after all... He didn't know if he should like that. 

When he opened his mouth to say something, to ask where he was, all that could be heard was a hoarse wail followed closely by coughing. There seemed to be no one there, as no one answered. 

Great... 

Jorah lay motionless, careful not to breathe in too hard, waiting. 

What had happened? 

His eyebrows almost managed to touch as he pondered that question. 

The battle... They had won the battle! 

The triumph vanished as quickly as it had come, as he remembered Sam. And Lyanna. He twisted his face in sorrow and had to pay for it. 

Carefully he rose his right arm and palpated his face. The pain was worst on his cheek and he also felt a bandage that had been wrapped over his nose several times around his head and also covered his ears. When he tried to lift his left arm as well, he almost threw up. 

Damn those-. 

The door opened and the knight just managed to lift his head to see a woman coming in with a fresh bowl of water. He didn't know the woman, but guessed she was a Northerner herself. 

"You are awake," she stated, surprised, though not overwhelmingly delighted. 

He actually wanted to reply something like, "No, I always sleep with my eyes open." However, he knew he wouldn't manage that, so he just croaked a pitiful, "Yes." 

"You should drink something." 

Well, he couldn't disagree, could he? 

She helped him sit up a little straighter - which involved groans and watery eyes - and brought a cup to his lips. The cool water calmed him somewhat and he was able to speak again to some extent. 

"Who are you?" 

She set the cup down beside his bed and turned to him again. 

"Mya. I'm from Bear Island." 

"Oh..." 

"I've been assigned to look after our new lord." 

He looked at Mya, slightly shocked. 

He had forgotten all about that... Was he really...? He didn't want to be the Lord of anything at all. He wanted to be with Daenerys and take back the Seven Kingdoms with her. 

"I'm Lord Mormont… again?" he asked, making sure he hadn't misunderstood. 

"If you have even an ounce of decency in you, then yes," the other replied and set about removing the one bandage from his face. She cleaned the wound, which burned incredibly, and bandaged it again without him uttering another word. 

He had to become a lord again... He had to do it for Lyanna and his father. He already hadn't been able to fulfil his wish to join the Night's Watch. But he had only just re-joined Daenerys! Still, he couldn't refuse... He... he just couldn't. 

So, he was Lord of Bear Island again… and that meant he was under Jon's direct command. 

Jorah groaned inwardly. 

Seriously…? Well, maybe Jon had died in battle... It was sad that that was his only hope, but to be honest, he didn't care. They were only his thoughts, after all, and no one would ever know what was going on in his head. 

"I'm still at Winterfell?" 

"Yes. The dead were burned this afternoon." 

"That means Lyanna is already-." 

"-with her ancestors." 

He swallowed. 

"And Sam? Samwell Tarly. Is he also-?" 

"All of them, My Lord." 

He lowered his gaze. The question of whether any of the Starks were dead burned on his tongue, but he thought of something more important. 

"How many of us?" 

"A hundred... roughly." "That's not so much...is it?" 

"No, My Lord we put up a good fight. Fortunately, all the children survived too, as help arrived at the crypts in time." 

Grey Worm had made it! 

"Did everyone in the crypts survive?" 

"The Queen's hand was wounded... Lady Sansa is fine, quite apart from her mental pain... however, the Unsullied Officer died saving the others." 

Grey Worm! But… but he had seen him... he had lived! He was one of the best fighters he knew! He couldn’t be dead! 

"You knew him?" asked Mya as she began to remove the bandage from his left arm. 

"Of course... He was my friend." 

Oh no... Missandei! Was she all right? It had to be bad to lose him now... 

He shook his head slightly. 

"You said something about Lady Sansa's pain... what did you mean by that?" 

"She lost her siblings. Arya and Bran. No one knows what happened, but we suspect that the two of them finished off the Night King and gave their lives in the process." 

"Oh..." 

So, Jon was still alive... Amazing. 

She bandaged his arm again and pulled back the fur a little to attend to a wound on his stomach. Immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Winter fur was known for its good heating and it was cold as hell without it. 

He made himself look at the wound and found that there were several. That explained a lot... 

There was a small cut on his right side that probably went a little deeper, his left side was also peppered with a couple of wounds and across his left hip was a red welt that, fortunately for him, was not very deep. Armour just paid off. 

When Mya had finished, she washed her hands and turned to him one last time. 

"Is there anyone you want me to let know you're awake?" 

He wanted to say "The Queen" but somehow, he had a feeling it wouldn't go down too well with the young lady in front of him. 

"No... but you can tell my men that I will be up soon." 

"That's not a good idea." 

"I don't care." 

She nodded and he could have sworn he saw a thin smile on her lips. 

It felt like the door had just closed when there was a knock. Maybe it was Daenerys! Or maybe it was Jon... though he didn't know what he'd want here. 

"Come in!" he forced himself to say, hoping it wasn't Jon.

"You gave us all quite a scare, Mormont. Oh, forgive me. Lord Mormont." 

He groaned and sank back even deeper into the pillows. 

"Lannister..." 

"That's me." 

"What do you want?" 

"To see how you are and answer any questions you might have." 

He gave him a brisk look. 

"Mya has already answered all my questions." 

"That's fine, but I'm afraid she doesn't know how the Queen is." 

"Why? What about Daenerys?" 

Panic rose in him and he tried to sit up a little straighter again. Tyrion placed himself in a chair beside him. 

"Well... she didn't take it as hard as Jon, but still... she lost one of her children and her general." 

Jorah pressed his lips together. 

"I know... How is Missandei?" 

"I've hardly seen her in the past few days. I think the Queen has allowed her some mourning time." 

The dwarf picked up a cup and poured himself a drink. When he tasted that it was only water, however, he put it back in disgust. 

"Perhaps I should warn you... Daenerys and Jon seem to have become quite close after the battle. Which I personally think is a good thing. Jon would be a good-." 

"Yes, I know!" the knight growled dejectedly. 

"Why don't you let me finish!" retorted Tyrion, upset, and Jorah sighed. 

"Fine… What else were you going to say?" 

"I was going to say that Jon would be a good choice, of course, being of an ancient house and also being the Warden of the North and all that stuff... BUT..." 

Jorah rose his eyebrows... 

What would come next? 

"...he's a bastard. At least as long as Daenerys doesn't change that. You, on the other hand..." 

If he could, he would have risen his eyebrows even further. 

"... you are not a bastard. You are also a lord of a very prestigious ancient house of the North. Granted, House Mormont is not a big house, but-." 

"-a proud one," Jorah finished the sentence. 

"Exactly. An alliance between you and Daenerys would have almost the same meaning as one with Jon." 

His whole body filled with excitement and he nearly jumped out of his bed. Then he remembered Tyrion's warning. 

What if Daenerys didn't even want him anymore? At least not as a husband. 

"Shall I send word to the queen that you are awake?" the dwarf inquired, getting up again to leave. 

"She may not come until tomorrow, though. Today is the feast..." 

"What feast?" 

"THE feast. The living celebrate that they are still alive. It can only be a few hours before it begins." 

He clawed at the back of the chair. His knuckles were already turning white and he had to bite his other hand to keep from crying out. So, he only gave a low growl and ventured another step towards the door. 

Jorah had managed with difficulty to put on loose trousers and a shirt... it had certainly taken him longer than just an hour. 

After hours of brooding, he had decided to go to the feast. And nothing would stop him. For one thing, he had to see his men, for another, he had to be there for Daenerys. 

"Come on..." he muttered to himself and took the next step. 

He had to hold his stomach and brace himself against the wall with his other hand, but he managed to get as far as the door. He pushed it open and groped his way into the corridor. He didn't know exactly where he was... so he decided on a direction and shuffled on. 

At some point he heard laughter and knew he was on the right track. Arriving in front of the entrance, he leaned back against the wall for a moment and then entered. His eyes first fell on the men of Bear Island. 

Uncertainty spread through him. 

Yes, he was their lord, but that didn't have to mean anything. He remembered what Lyanna had said... He was making it truly easy for them. 

Jorah- no! Lord Mormont straightened his shoulders and tried not to look too pained. He reached their table without them noticing him, but then their eyes finally landed on him and their laughter died away. 

"Lord Mormont," one said blankly, bowing his head. 

"We did not expect to see you here today." 

"Well, I don't plan to stay long, anyway," the lord confessed, nervously running a hand through his hair. 

"But I already missed the funeral, as I found out this afternoon. I didn't want to miss this as well." 

There was a murmur of agreement and one of the men slid a little on the bench. 

"Sit down." 

He nodded at him gratefully and sat down beside him, careful not to groan too loud. 

"Now, you will explain where you were in the battle... and how you got these..." 

The man sitting opposite him pointed to his face. 

"Why would you want to know that?" 

"Well... let's put it this way: We didn't see you once during the battle. Although it doesn't look like you did not fight." 

Jorah narrowed his eyes to slits and reached for a filled jug to empty it. 

"Alright..." 

He wiped his mouth and propped one arm on the table. 

"Lyanna offered me to fight along with all of you, and I would have liked nothing more." 

"Ha! I don't think so, with us it was pure carnage." 

"Believe me, it was the same where I was. So, I was supposed to lead the Dothraki... we were surprised by the Night King though." 

"Ah... that bastard," one growled and again they murmured in agreement. 

"Hey, at least he had the balls to venture onto the battlefield," the lord countered and continued. 

"Somehow I made it into the castle." 

"Where it wasn't better at all..." 

"Where it wasn't better at all," he agreed with his neighbour. 

"At some point I realised something was wrong and came to the aid of our queen." 

"Our queen?" Jorah stood up abruptly. He felt a seam tear at his wound on his stomach, but he didn't mind it. 

"Yes, our queen!" he repeated firmly, staring into the other man's eyes until he lowered his gaze. 

"Daenerys is our queen. She is the rightful heir, and besides, she saved all your lives. You should be more grateful." 

"Without the King in the Nor-." 

"There is no King in the North anymore!" 

There was silence at the table for a moment and Jorah realised that perhaps he had overreacted a little. 

"You do not have to accept me as your lord... I understand if you no longer think me worthy. But you will, for the sake of the old gods and the new, accept Daenerys Targaryen as your Queen!" 

Again, all were silent, then one rose his tankard. 

"Our lord has spoken." 

It could have sounded contemptuous or mocking, but it was meant seriously. The others rose their tankards as well. 

"To our lord!" 

Jorah rose his jug. 

"And to Lyanna!" 

"Aye! To our little lady!" 

The tension had disappeared altogether and the conversation became more jocular. Jorah had to confess that he had missed this. 

"Shall we call you Andale from now on?" his seatmate grinned, finishing off his tankard. 

"Ha! It would have a certain irony..." the lord laughed, letting his gaze wander over the tables to the large one at the end. 

"I should seek out the Queen, now..." 

"Wait a minute!" slurred his counterpart, eyeing the bandage that covered half of his face. 

"With this?" 

"Believe me, what's underneath is no better," the lord grinned in reply and was about to rise. 

It was then that he caught sight of Daenerys. She was, as suspected, sitting at the large table at the end of the hall, though she was not sitting in her chair, but on Jon's lap. 

Jorah's smile froze. 

And if that wasn't enough, she kissed Jon. 

Jorah blinked and quickly turned away. 

"Hey, what's going on?" one of his men called after him as he stormed out of the hall... as fast as he could with all the injuries. 

He paid no attention to the call, his face flushed with shame. 

How had he ever thought Daenerys was still interested in him? 

He only slowed down in the corridor, bracing himself against the stone walls. He would have given anything for cool stone, but of course these fucking walls had to be warm! 

He put his head on the back of his neck and realised he was starting to feel sick. As soon as he closed his eyes, the image of Dany and Jon was back in his mind. It took all his self-control not to throw up here and now. 

"Mormont! What are you doing here!" a voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to the dwarf, grateful for the distraction. 

"Does it matter?" 

"You were going to see our Queen?" asked Tyrion, his eyes widening in understanding. 

"I'm sorry... but I warned you." 

The knight didn't answer and the imp sighed, "Well... you haven't seen my brother, have you?" 

"Who?" 

"Jaime. I last saw him at the funeral." 

"How should I know where your brother is? Perhaps he has gone back to King's Landing now that the dead are defeated." 

"No, he wouldn't...", Tyrion fell silent. 

"Oh shit..." 

"What?" 

"That idiot!" 

Jorah buried his face in his hands and after a few seconds looked up again. 

"Can you please take care of your brother alone... I need to get out of here..." 

And before the hand could say anything else, he limped away. 

After all, he had got on well with his people... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. His father would probably be proud of him. At least he hoped so. 

Eventually, he found his chamber and stumbled inside. 

It had still been a mistake to go to the feast. His whole body seemed to cry out for rest and as he carefully pulled his shirt over his head, he noticed the bloodstain. 

Disgruntled, he threw it across the room and climbed into bed. Damn the pants. He buried his face in the pillow, but his thoughts would not rest. Drained, he groaned into the silence. 

The gods were clearly not on his side. No matter what he did, it would end in disaster. When he had turned away from Daenerys at the wall, he had thought he was doing the right thing. But no... of course he hadn't. 

He had almost nodded off when a soft knock on the door jolted him from his slumber. He knew only one person would knock on his door like that, so he just lay there, hoping she would just go away and have her fun with Jon... even in his head he could pronounce Jon like a swearword. 

That thought made him smirk. 

The door opened and he would have winced if it hadn't hurt. 

"Jorah...?" whispered Daenerys. 

What was he supposed to do now? 

Not answering was probably a good choice, then she would surely leave. He was aware of footsteps and the door was closed... then he heard footsteps again. Inside his chamber. 

Why did she have to be so insistent? 

"Jorah, I... meant to come earlier, but... I know that you’re awake, Jor-." 

"It's Lord Mormont to you, Your Grace," he interrupted her miffily and could well imagine her slightly shocked and disappointed face, yet he turned around to look at her and see it. 

Moonlight shone through one of the windows and had he not known for certain that he was not dreaming, he would have thought he was imagining Daenerys. 

"I guess someone just doesn't want to see us together..." he murmured, smiling sadly. 

Slowly she approached his bed and sat down beside him. 

"Still, we've always found our way back to each other, haven't we?" 

"But never for long..." 

He saw her lower her gaze so he wouldn't notice the lone tear, but he knew her too well. 

He swallowed. 

"Listen... me being a lord doesn't have to mean anything bad. It doesn't mean I have to leave your side again." 

It was now or never. Tyrion had warned him, and not a day too soon. If he didn't do it now, he might never get the chance again. 

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused, unobtrusively wiping away her tear so she could look at him again. 

"We could create a bond that not even the gods could destroy, on the contrary, they are part of the bond," he almost breathed as excitement choked his throat. Daenerys still didn't understand. 

"Jorah, do you-?" 

"Daenerys!" someone interrupted her after that someone knocked on the door. 

Unfortunately, Jorah knew that someone all too well. Jon Snow. 

“Wait!” 

He grabbed Daenerys' arm as she tried to rise, however, he didn't know what he could say. 

The moment was ruined.


	45. Lord Mormont Part2

Sleep had not come easily the previous evening, nor had it lasted long. It seemed as if he had only just closed his eyes when there was another knock at the door. He opened his eyes and found that it was already quite bright in the room. 

Tired as he was, he forgot his wounds and got up to go to the door. He tensed up and reflexively grabbed his stomach. This pain was accompanied by a steady pounding in his head. 

There was another knock. 

“In a moment!" 

Annoyed, he buried his face in his hands, overcame himself to put on a shirt and went to the door. Sullenly, he yanked it open and stared into the face of his queen. 

Oh... 

He blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. 

"W-what is it?" 

She looked at him with wide eyes. Apparently, she hadn't expected him to still be asleep. 

"I w-wanted to tell you that we are gathering for a meeting. I-I mean, you may not be my knight anymore, but-." 

She fell silent as he placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"I will always be your knight." 

It was all the intimacy he could muster. Could it even be called intimacy? 

Daenerys blinked, her eyes glazed over, and she murmured, "Forgive me..." 

He could do no more than watch her wipe away the tears. 

"It's just... I've lost Viserion for good and now I've lost you too and... I just don't know what to do," she half laughed the last part but was interrupted by her own sobbing. 

He couldn't help but look at her like THAT. 

"You have not lost me, Khaleesi. I am still here. I am still here... because you did not let me go." 

He frowned. 

"In a way, I owe you my life." 

Daenerys smiled in response, sniffling, and folded her arms. 

"I urm..." 

She shook her head slightly and looked at him again. 

"I actually just wanted to ask you if you would go to the meeting with me." 

"Of course, I will! I'm sure you'll all need the Lord of Bear Island...,” he joked. 

"Well... I do need him, actually." 

In the brief silence that followed those words, they both simply returned each other's gaze. Without ulterior motives, without desire... merely trust was reflected in it. 

"When is the meeting?", Jorah then got up the nerve to ask, breaking the silence. 

"Now," came the answer almost a little meekly. 

"Oh..." 

"Yeah..." 

"Well, I suppose I should put something else on then." 

He was about to turn away, but Dany's hand settled on his arm and stopped him. 

"I'm sure the others would understand if you didn't dress up." 

"Khaleesi," he gave indignantly. 

"I am Lord now." 

She giggled. 

"Very well, I will wait for you here." 

"You don't have to." 

"Still." 

He sighed, "Alright, but if we're late, it's not my fault." 

"They'll be able to wait for their queen." 

"Let's hope so... The first proof of loyalty. Patience." 

They both had to laugh and it warmed his heart. How he missed her laughter... 

"Alright... I should probably hurry though." 

She just smirked in reply and leaned her shoulder against the wall, waiting. He returned her gaze briefly more, then he disappeared back into his chamber. 

He washed his face, fixed his hair a little and managed to put on his tunic relatively quickly, leaving out the weapon belt as that was where his injuries were. However, when he got to the point where he had to lace up his shirt, his left arm failed miserably. He tried again in a sitting position, but even in that posture it hurt too much. 

Great... 

He didn't have time to ask anyone for help, except... no. 

He looked at the door and his shoulders slumped. 

"Why always me?" 

Still whining to himself, he stood up and surveyed the room. 

"So... this probably sounds weird, but I... can't lace up my shirt," he reluctantly confessed as he opened the door and Daenerys looked at him questioningly. 

He couldn't look her in the eye, so he stared at the floor in front of him with his lips pressed together. 

"Could you..." 

"Of course." 

She had tried to sound serious, but failed, causing the blush to shoot up the knight's face again. He turned away without a word and waited for her to enter his chamber as well, which she did shortly after him. She closed the door and stepped a little closer to him. 

"So..." 

"I know how to lace up a shirt, Lord Mormont." 

He closed his mouth again and watched her grab the ends of the laces and tie them together. As she did so, her eyes fell on his bare chest and he heard her draw in a startled breath. 

"What... happened to you there?" 

Carefully she ran her hand over his scars, causing his breathing to become shallower. It was pitiful how easily she could arouse him. 

"Did you think the grey scales just disappeared?" he forced himself to ask in a shaky voice. 

"I never thought about it. I-I was just glad you were cured," she explained, looking him in the eyes again. 

"How did they heal you?" 

"Sam... Samwell Tarly treated me." 

"Tarly?" 

"Yes." 

A short silence. 

"I should apologise to him..." 

"He died in battle." 

Perhaps he shouldn't have said it so directly, but it was too late now. 

"From him I had Heartsbane..." 

Daenerys was still speechless, but was slowly finding her words again. 

"And how did he treat you?" 

"You don't want to know." 

"Yes, I do, I want to know." 

He sighed, "My top layer of skin was removed and then treated with some paste." 

Her mouth dropped open. 

"You were skinned?" 

"Well, I wouldn't call it skinning-." 

"Your skin was removed! You could very well call it skinning!" she said, biting her lower lip as she realised how loudly she had done that. 

"How did you survive? How did you endure the… the pain?" 

"Well, I... to be honest, I thought of you." 

Her violet eyes widened and she blushed. He ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. 

"Urm... I'm sorry if that was inappropriate." 

"No... It wasn't." 

Again, there was a brief moment of silence. 

"Do you still need my help or...?" 

"Uh, yes, please. I need to get my doublet on somehow." 

He grasped the leather and held it indecisively. She took it from his hand a little more securely, however, and held it so that he could slip his left arm through. 

"Turn around." 

He did as he was told and with her help, he actually managed to get both arms through the appropriate holes. He turned back to her and she laced up his doublet as well. 

"Thank you," he murmured while she was still busy with it. 

"No problem... You've saved my life more than once, surely I'll be able to help you with something simple like this." 

"No, I mean it, Daenerys,-." 

He hadn't meant to say her name. It had just… escaped his mouth! 

She too had paused for a moment and then simply continued.

"...W-what I wanted to say..." 

"I know. And I'm glad I could help you," she relieved his stammering and put a hand to his cheek. 

"Do you want to take off the bandage as well?"

"I don't know if I'm allowed to..." 

"Since when do you care?" 

He chuckled, "Good point..." 

"Does it look bad?" 

"I suppose so." 

Without hesitation she untied the knot and unwound the bandage. As soon as she saw the wound, she stopped. 

"Am I a second Tyrion?" he smiled. 

"Not quite..." she replied and continued. 

"Worse?" he asked, now starting to actually worry. 

She wordlessly grabbed a mirror and handed it to him, whereupon he gave her an uncertain look and then peered into the glass. 

He drew in a startled breath. The lower half of his right ear was missing and his face... If the blade had caught him a little further to the right, he would probably be dead, as it would have pierced straight through his eye. The wound on his cheek, however, was not as bad as expected. 

He lowered the mirror again and looked into Dany's shocked face. 

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, her hands clasped together. 

Jorah shook his head slightly. 

"I don't have to look good to protect you, Khaleesi. But urm… we really should go now." 

"I... Yes, we should." 

He gave her an encouraging smile and opened the door to hold it open for her. 

"After you, Your Grace." 

He walked silently beside her and went where she was going. Daenerys seemed preoccupied with something, though, and when they arrived outside the room, she couldn't take it anymore. 

"Jorah, listen, this thing between me and Jon..." 

"I know... Tyrion told me," the knight muttered and just pushed the door open. 

He didn't feel like talking to Daenerys about that. 

"No, I-." 

She fell forced silent, now that they were in front of the others. 

"Your Grace! We sent out a search for you! No one knew where you were! You are far too-." 

Tyrion noticed Jorah behind Daenerys and he must have been at a loss for words. Whether that was because he understood now or the lord's wound had frightened him, the latter did not know. 

"Forgive me for being late," she apologised and approached the table, Jorah beside her. 

No one asked what he was doing here and he was grateful for that. Looking around, he was sad to see that they had shrunk quite a bit. Only Daenerys, Tyrion, Missandei, Jon, Sansa, Davos, Gendry, Tormund, Podrick and Yohn Royce were here. Theon, Brienne, Bran, Arya, Sam and Grey Worm were missing. 

None of those present seemed happy. They had all suffered heavy losses. 

"How great is the loss of the Unsullied?" asked Jon, somewhat tensely, and Daenerys sighed. 

"I have not yet appointed a new officer. However, I was told that about half of them survived." 

Jorah was surprised. More than expected after all. 

"Of the Dothraki, we lost more, perhaps two-thirds, and many have no horses left." 

"I don't know how we're going to fix that problem...," Jon apologised, but Dany just shook her head. 

"We will have to buy new ones from Essos. But what about the Northern forces?" 

This time Sansa replied. 

"We have also lost half our men. However, all the survivors are also very exhausted and will need to recover." 

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," the queen replied, her voice as cold as ice. 

The knight gave her a surprised look. Only now did he notice the looks the two women were giving each other. 

Before the other could say something equally cold back, Tyrion spoke up.

"Your Grace, may I say that we do not need to attack King's Landing immediately. The Kingdoms will probably turn to you on their own, as the North has done. The new Prince of Dorne has pledged himself to us and I have heard that Asha Greyjoy has reclaimed the Iron Islands on your behalf. Give the people some time..." 

All Daenerys gave was him a harsh look. 

"Every day we wait, Cersei grows stronger. Bran has told us all about the Golden Company, and besides, she has the Iron Fleet." 

Jorah felt he should say something, so he started carefully. 

"Of course, you are right, Khaleesi. Cersei grows stronger with each day we wait. But what will you do about her? People still stand by her because they believe she wants only the best and you cannot change that. Only Cersei can, by making a mistake that reveals what she really is. A tyrant." 

"So, we're just supposed to wait for the problems to sort themselves out?" 

"There is nothing else we can do as long as you will not lower yourselves to her level. You have to show the people that you are better than her and not just some stranger who claims the Kingdoms for herself because she can. You want to rule to help the people and make the land a better place." 

Silence fell, with everyone looking at Daenerys, waiting for her next words. 

"All right, then. We will wait. In that time everyone can recover and I will travel back to Dragonstone, but as soon as the opportunity is given, I intend to take it and not let go. No matter the cost." 

Jorah swallowed and lowered his gaze to the ground. 

No matter the cost... That didn't sound like Daenerys anymore, but he couldn't say anything in reply as they weren’t alone and he didn’t want to fall in her back. 

Jon nodded. 

"Good... I think we could lay siege to King's Landing with the men we have. If any come from the land, our army will fight them off. If the Iron Fleet wants to deliver anything across the Blackwater, the dragons will destroy the ship." 

"A siege? Jon, winter is here. Just because we destroyed the Night King doesn't mean-." 

"I know, Sansa! But what else could we do? Our men can get some rest and then head south, that's what you asked for." 

"I was counting on a battle! We don't have the resources for a siege in winter. Our men will freeze to death!" 

"Lady Sansa...", Daenerys now interjected again.

"What do you expect from me? Last summer lasted a long time, so we can expect the same from the following winter, and do you really think I'm just going to sit on Dragonstone for ten years and wait for your men to finally dare to go out in the snow?" 

Silence fell and Jorah thought he was about to be roasted by electricity. 

"Daenerys is our queen and we will do as she commands. We will lay siege to King's Landing," Jon finally said. 

"I will give your men enough time to recover from their wounds," Daenerys said, turning away. 

"Then King's Landing will become our top priority." 

She walked out of the room, Missandei and Tyrion following her. Jorah tried to join them but was stopped. 

"Lord Mormont." 

Suspiciously he turned to Sansa. Jon also gave her a puzzled look, but then left the room. 

"My lady?" 

What did she want from him? He had never spoken to her before... It surprised him that she even knew who he was. 

"I was hoping to speak to you for a moment." 

"Of course... What is it?"

Somehow, he felt left alone. Yes, Sansa was certainly ten years younger than him, yet she had a demeanour that was sure to make anyone freeze at first. 

"You may be subject to the Queen, but you are also subject to the Warden of the North." 

"You don't need to remind me of that." 

"Good, because I wanted to ask you, if you had to choose... would you choose the Queen or your Lord?" 

He stepped a little closer to Sansa. 

"I would choose my queen." 

"No matter who the queen is?" 

"Daenerys will always be the only queen and I would always choose her." 

Sansa nodded slowly. 

"Very well... you may go..." 

He gave her one last confused look and then turned away. 

What on earth had Sansa wanted to achieve with that?

He knocked. 

Jorah was determined and if Jon wanted to accompany her, the bastard could forget it. This time the knight would not simply step back. 

"Come in!" he heard her say and pushed the door open. 

"Khaleesi..." he greeted his queen and entered. 

She sat with her back turned to him and Missandei was braiding her hair. At his voice, however, she turned to face him. 

"Ser Jorah." 

"I am here to escort you to the dragons. The Unsullied and Dothraki will be leaving any moment." 

She smiled at his words. 

"That is not a lord's duty." 

"I don't care." 

It almost looked like she was going to contradict him... in his head he could already hear her talking something about Jon, but then she just turned her head back again so Missandei could finish her work and said, "Alright. I'll be done in a minute." 

A surprised grin found its way to his lips and he watched the two friends. When she was done, Daenerys gave her a sad smile. 

"Stay with Tyrion... he'll look after you." 

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I think I can take care of myself." 

The two embraced and Daenerys strode to Jorah. 

"So, go on, Lord Mormont. Escort your queen to her children, for I am sure I will need your protection on this long journey." 

He rolled his eyes and they set off. 

"Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Khaleesi," he pleaded as they came straight out of the south gate and walked towards the camp of the Unsullied. 

"What do you mean? I never do anything rash." 

He gave her a sceptical look. 

"Until now, I have almost always been by your side..." 

"Not in Meereen." 

"Well, I wouldn't say things went well in Meereen." 

She was about to retort something equally biting, but probably changed her mind. 

"We shouldn't argue about that." 

They weren't arguing at all... He kept that to himself, though, and just said, "You're right. Forgive me." 

She didn’t reply. 

He lowered his eyes in concern and wished he hadn't said anything at all. 

"I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. Westeros can be treacherous and you don't know the land yet, just as the land doesn't know you. I think the idea of waiting a bit isn't so bad." 

"So, you're on Sansa's side?" 

Jorah stopped abruptly and reluctantly Daenerys stopped too. 

"I'm always..." 

He stepped a little closer to her without taking his eyes off her. 

"...always on your side." 

Her expression softened a little and she murmured something that sounded like, "I know..." 

When she lifted her gaze again and looked at him, he regretted stepping so close to her. 

"Jorah, I have Tyrion and Missandei... I think those two will be able to help me." 

"Do not let your emotions take over, Khaleesi... please. Don't do anything you might regret afterwards." 

She rolled her eyes and turned to continue. 

"Daenerys, I mean it!" he shouted, hurrying after her. 

"And so do I! I can take care of myself, Jorah... stop acting like you’re my father!" she snapped at him, causing him to be at a loss for words and look downcast.

"It's just... I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen soon. Something really bad." 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her give him a sideways glance. 

"Wasn't the battle bad enough, then?" 

"Of course, it was..." 

He decided not to elaborate on the subject. It was no use and besides, he had probably just become paranoid or something. 

They left the camp and the King’s Road. The dragons could be seen from a distance and Jorah couldn't help but smile at the sight of them. He hadn't seen them in a long time. 

"I think they missed you," Daenerys smirked as she saw the look on his face. 

His smile took on something sad at her words. 

"I'm afraid they won't see me again for a while." 

He snorted and added, "They'll probably forget about me soon." 

Daenerys boxed him softly against the shoulder and hooked her arm through his. 

"I don't think they will forget you." 

His heart clenched... 

Rhaegal had let Jon riding him. It apparently wasn't that hard to forget him... yet he wanted to believe Daenerys' words and tried to look cheered up. 

The dragons saw them coming, but made no move. Immediately a lump formed in his throat and Daenerys also seemed upset. Jorah was about to say something when he noticed the wounds. Drogon seemed to be doing reasonably well, but Rhaegal was... literally shredded. 

He must have gasped in shock, because Dany gave him a sad look. Slowly he disengaged himself from her arm and groped towards the green dragon. 

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" 

He couldn't take his eyes off him. 

Daenerys did not answer and when he did look around for her, he found that her eyes were lowered to the ground. 

"I... thought you should recover yourself before you could worry about him. I didn't want to burden you with this." 

He knew she had only meant well, yet anger and disappointment rose within him. 

Why had so much been kept from him? What else was there that he didn't know about? 

He shook his head slightly and approached Rhaegal. 

The dragon opened his eyes sleepily and emitted a small puff of smoke when he recognised him. Jorah stretched out his hand, his lips pressed together. 

How was he supposed to fly when his wings were full of holes? How was he supposed to keep his balance when whole chunks of his tail were missing? 

"What on earth has Jon done to you?" he murmured, stroking his scratched-up muzzle. 

Yes, it had been a battle, but Drogon seemed considerably better. 

"I'm so sorry..." 

Not that he could ride a dragon any better than Jon, but he would never have let it get that far. 

Had Jon not even seen what he had done to the dragon? Had he thought dragons were invulnerable? 

The knight felt the urge to draw his sword and hack something in two. 

Rhaegal snapped him out of his thoughts by nudging him lightly, almost causing him to fall over and let out a throaty coo. He grinned and stroked his muzzle again. 

"Don't forget me, will you?" 

The dragon snorted and then overcame himself to stand up. 

When Jorah turned back to Daenerys, he found that she was already sitting on Drogon, waiting. 

"Thank you, Jorah... for everything." 

He slowly approached the Black Dread, stopping a few feet away from him. 

"This is not goodbye forever, Khaleesi... We will meet again." 

"I hope so," she smiled and Drogon pushed himself off the ground. 

The knight automatically took a few steps back. 

Rhaegal also swung into the air and he had no choice but to look after them. He thought he saw Daenerys glance briefly over her shoulder once. Then they were too far away for him to see anything and he missed her already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to name these chapters part 1 and 2 because I just couldn't think of a better name for this one and I thought, mhhh Lord Mormont fits for both, actually xD


	46. Mad Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the updates of this fic (since I'm doing them kinda randomly lately): I've finished the translation of this work about a week ago sooooo I'm going to post a chapter every two days (chapter 49 and 50 are gonna be published at the same day because 50 is very short... about 600 words xD)

They had been flying near the ship below them all day long, but when they saw Dragonstone, they both gave a happy cry and Daenerys allowed herself a small smile as well. 

Her children had disliked the North as much as she had, yet she would have preferred to stay there... The reason was a single person. 

Before she knew it, Rhaegal swung a little higher until he poked through the cloud cover, only to break through it again moments later. Drogon growled and she patted his neck to soothe him. Daenerys knew he wanted to imitate his brother, but with her on his back he didn't dare. The green dragon reappeared beside them and gave a playful coo, causing Daenerys to laugh. 

They hadn't been this boisterous in ages. 

He was about to climb back up into the air, but there was a whoosh and without warning a huge spear crossed his path. He shrieked in fright and toppled to the side. Horrified, Daenerys clung to Drogon as he let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropped a little and then rose again. More spears shot close to them and Dany had lost sight of Rhaegal for a brief moment of shock. 

"No... no! Rhaegal!" 

She leaned to the side and spotted a couple of ships with a kraken on their sails behind a group of rocks. 

Cersei! 

Anger rose inside her, but by then another spear fizzed past her and she heard a screech above her. Fear flashed through her like lightning and she turned towards the sound. 

Rhaegal! 

The dragon gave another screech as a spear missed him by a hair and swung back over the clouds. Drogon followed him without hesitation and Daenerys had no choice but to cling to him and hope. She thought she detected scattered screams from below, but she dared not to turn around. 

"Please..." 

Her sobs were drowned out by the rushing in her ears and she pressed herself even flatter against Drogon's back. 

She wished Jorah was here. She wished he was here to tell her not to be afraid. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get her racing heart back under control. 

"What would Jorah do...? What would he say?" she whispered to herself, picturing him, trying to calm down. 

She was startled when a hand came down on her shoulder. 

_Dragonstone is below you! You must land!_

When she looked around, there was no one behind her. But... she had felt the touch! She had heard his voice! 

Daenerys was too confused to form a sensible thought herself, so she signalled Drogon to land and they instantly lost altitude. Rhaegal followed them and when they landed on the huge rock, she paused for a moment. 

What if they had taken the castle? What if they had just walked into another ambush? Why hadn't they counted on that? 

_They won't be able to hurt you as long as I'm here!_

She almost fell off Drogon. 

What in the name of all seven hells...?! 

Slowly she climbed off his back and stared at the man facing her. She could see him. The wind ruffled his dark brown hair and his eyes shone in their beautiful azure blue. 

But this couldn't be! 

He was at Winterfell! She had left him behind! 

She blinked a few times and he was gone. Disappointment hit her and she spun around to make sure he was really gone. 

Why was her mind playing with her? 

The last time this had happened had been here on Dragonstone. The day she had been with Jon... She pulled a wry face, disgusted by herself. 

_Are you coming?_

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

But surely this couldn't be actua-!? 

She had thought she had lost her imaginary bear that day, but it seemed he had made it back into her head. But why did she think that was bad? She could tell the imaginary one from the real one very well. She wasn't crazy and besides... she missed him. 

"Sure, I'm coming!" she shouted, giving her children one last look over her shoulder, and then hurried over to Jorah to take his outstretched hand…

_It doesn't look like Cersei set another trap for you. We are safe here._

She couldn't remember how long she had been standing at the window of the Chamber of the Painted Table, staring out at the sea, but her knight had not disappeared once. As always, the waves were crashing far below them against the rock on which the castle had been built. 

Daenerys, we should go and see what happened to the ship. I think- 

He broke off as hurried footsteps sounded from the corridor. 

"Your Grace!?" 

She turned and recognised Tyrion, completely soaked and eyes dilated. 

"You are alright? You weren't hit?" 

Relieved that he too was unharmed, she shook her head and stepped away from the window. 

"My dragons were able to dodge..." 

Jorah cleared his throat and she gave him a quick look. 

"What..." 

She turned back to Tyrion. 

"What about the others? Was the ship hit badly?" 

"We haven't found any bodies yet, but there are some missing. A-among the missing..." 

His glum gaze sank to the floor. 

"Who? Who’s among the missing?" she asked, feeling her throat tighten, but she kept her gaze fixed on her hand. 

"Missandei," he replied quietly, looking up in concern. 

"I last saw her on the ship." 

_That doesn't have to mean anything... she could still be out there somewhere... in the sea. We can find her!_

She ignored the voice and turned around. She had expected to be sad, which she was, but her anger overshadowed her sadness many times over. 

"Your Grace?" 

"That's Cersei's fault." 

"Presumably..." 

"Cersei said she would support us in our fight against the dead." 

"I know..." 

Tyrion grew quieter with every word he uttered. 

"Instead, she breaks her promise and then attacks us! She almost killed my dragons and Missandei is dead because of her!" 

"We don't know if she-." 

"Stop defending your sister! I thought you were on my side!" 

The anger boiling inside her fairly went to her head and she stepped menacingly close to her - now last - advisor. 

"I will have my revenge on her and if you do not intend to support me, then at least get out of my way!" she hissed through clenched teeth. 

Tyrion almost backed away a few steps, but then held her gaze after all. 

"Your Grace... I beg you to reconsider." 

She snorted and pushed him aside as she hurried towards the exit. 

"What are you going to do? Cersei will be holed up in the Red Keep... a whole city lies between that and you. Besides, it will take the armies a while to-" 

"I have no intention of waiting for the armies!" 

It took a moment for the meaning of the words to get through to him, but then shock was reflected in his eyes. 

"No. No, I can't let you do this! You can't-" 

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do!" she hissed and rushed into the throne room, Tyrion close on her heels. 

"Your Grace! What... what would Ser Jorah think of this!" 

Daenerys paused abruptly. 

The dwarf took the opportunity to continue speaking cautiously. 

"I don't think he would support you..." 

"He would if I demanded it," she opined, uncertainty having found a way into her words. 

"I think you are mistaken," Tyrion objected, slowly toddling up beside her to look at her. 

"I think he would have wanted to stop you too." 

She blinked and looked briefly behind her to where her bear stood. She saw the horror and disappointment in his eyes and that was more than enough to dissuade her. 

Ashamed of herself, she lowered her head. 

"You are right... We should discuss this and besides, I want us to send some ships to look for survivors. I expect everyone in the briefing room in an hour." 

She was about to turn away, but Tyrion stopped her again. 

"By everyone, you mean...?" 

She blinked in surprise. 

"You, me, Ser-." 

She broke off. 

It was just her and Tyrion now. The realisation hit her like a slap in the face. The pity-filled look on her hand didn't make it any better. 

"Shall I fetch the new officer of the Unsullied and some of the Dothraki?" he asked cautiously and she nodded slowly, "Yes. Yes, please."

It was evening and she lay in her bed, eyes wide open, because sleep just wouldn't find her. 

They had found some of the missing, a few drowned, a few alive, however there was still not a shadow of Missandei. Daenerys was certain that her friend was no longer alive if she was out at sea... swallowed by the depths of the ocean. 

A sob escaped her and her hand shot up to cover her mouth. 

Everything Essos had given her, Westeros took back. 

Was this the fate of a queen? 

She turned on her side and buried her nose in the pillow, hoping that would attract sleep, but all it attracted was more mopey thoughts and she began to automatically list all that had already been taken from her. The support of Highgarden..., almost her entire fleet, Viserion. 

She pressed her lips even tighter together at the thought. 

Not only had he been taken from her, he had been used against her. A far worse thought occurred to her. 

What if Jorah had died behind the wall and become part of the army of the dead? What if he had met her in battle? Ice blue and dead eyes, instead of the azure glowing ones. 

She swallowed. 

Cold hands that wanted to take her life instead of defend it. 

_Daenerys, stop burdening yourself with this._

Jorah's voice made her startle and look around in horror. She saw him standing in one of the corners of her room and for a moment thought he was real. But he couldn't be. 

"What... are you doing here?" 

She hadn't wished to imagine him. She hadn't even thought about it. 

Panic seized her. 

Couldn't she control it anymore? 

_I wanted to see how you’re doing._

He slowly approached her bed and sat down at the end. _Not very well, apparently._

She just stared at him in shock. How could he look so real? 

_What's the matter, Daenerys? You look like you had just seen-_

"You have to go!" 

_What? Why-_

"I said you have to go! Get out!" 

She could no longer look into his hurt yet confused eyes, so she closed hers. 

"You're not real...you're only in my head." 

She grabbed her head with her hands. 

"You're not real!" 

_Daenerys, look at me! I'm not trying to scare you! I just... want to check on you. Please -_

"Not real! You're not real, you're in my head! Go away, go away, go away! Please, go away!" 

There was a knock at the door and her heart leapt. 

Startled, she looked up. 

Jorah was gone. 

She barely dared to breath, looking around cautiously, her vision somewhat restricted by her silver hair that fell over her shoulders in her face. The room was empty. Relieved, she slumped down, but shortly afterwards jumped in alarm when there was another knock at the door. 

Was she imagining this too? Who would visit her chambers at this time? 

Slowly, she groped her way to the door in her nightgown and opened it a crack to peek outside. Seeing no one for the first moment, she really thought she had imagined it, but then Tyrion cleared his throat and her eyes fell on him. 

Relieved, she expelled her held breath. 

"I didn't expect you to be so relieved to see me," he quipped, but didn't really seem amused himself. 

That worried her a little. 

"What is it, Tyrion?" 

He looked up and down the corridor before speaking up again. 

"May I come in, perhaps? I know it's late, but I think you would have me burned alive by your dragons if I didn't let you know right away." 

This worried her even more now and she took a step to the side. She closed the door and turned to face him. He was lighting several candles and only now did she notice the scroll in his hand. 

"What’s this?" she asked and he wordlessly handed her the letter. 

Uncertainly she looked at it and then scrutinised the paper. The seal was broken, but she recognised it. 

"Cersei..." 

He replied nothing, but simply waited for her to read it, which she did immediately. Her eyes darted over the lines and with each word she processed she grew angrier. 

"I should not have listened to you." 

She lowered the letter and stared at him with a blank expression, whereupon he tried to justify himself, but she wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. 

"She has my friend... She wants me to come to King's Landing and watch Missandei beheaded!" 

Daenerys would have started crying in the past and if it was Jorah standing in front of her, she probably would have, but for now she swallowed her grief and suppressed it with her anger. 

Tyrion must have given up trying to reassure her because he only asked, "What are you going to do?" 

"What I should have done long ago." 

She slowly strode to the door and opened it again. 

"Now, if you will excuse me..." 

Tyrion didn't seem sure he could really leave her alone. 

"I am your queen and I command you to leave." 

She didn't like having to hold it against people that she was the queen, however it usually did some good. As it was now. 

Reluctantly, her hand got back into the hallway. 

"I'll send a raven to Winterfell tomorrow...I think it's time for the siege." 

"I doubt that will be necessary, but if it makes you happy. Send a raven." 

Before he could say anything else in reply, she slammed the door and went to her bed. 

As soon as she was back under the covers, tiredness overcame her, but she knew that this night would be a sleepless one, for her thoughts would not rest... and they all circled around the same thing. 

Revenge.

She hurried across the meadow to her dragons. Her hair swung uncontrollably back and forth with every energetic step, since Missandei had not been able to braid it, as Daenerys had regretfully discovered at dawn. She had then dressed as quickly as she could and stormed out of the castle. She had spent the whole night trying to think of a plan, but in the end, she had come to the conclusion that there was not much to plan. In the back of her mind, she knew that this was not a good idea. That she should at least wait for her army. But then she thought of her friend, how she was being held there, of all the people who had died and of Cersei's broken promise. 

She wanted to start screaming and punching something, but she calmed herself with the thought that she would soon have her revenge. 

She saw Cersei burning. She saw her soldiers burning. She saw everything burning. 

_Daenerys!_

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, but did not stop. 

"You weren't there the whole night...I was able to keep you at bay the whole time. I still can," she muttered to herself. 

_Don't do it! Please, Daenerys, I'm begging you!_

She winced as Jorah grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. 

"Leave me alone!" 

Her snarl brought as much as a Lannister's promise. 

_What do you think you're doing? Cersei is in the Red Keep! How will you get her out of there?_

"I'll smoke her out if I have to!" 

_And what of Missandei? She's not dead yet. It's not too late._

"You don't know that." 

_Alright, but we don't know if she's dead either... and as long as there's a chance she's still alive, you shouldn't risk her life._

Dany became uncertain, but she would not give up her plan. Not again! 

Wordlessly she turned away again and immediately reached the dragons, who were currently gnawing on a horse. Rhaegal looked badly shaken and Drogon didn't seem to be doing so well either, but when they spotted their mother, they both gave a happy coo and she was sure they were well enough. 

_Besides... think about it! If you flew to King's Landing with the dragons and put half the town on fire... what would people think of you?_

"I don't care!" 

_Well, you should! If you want to be Queen, one day your people will and they won't like it if they think you're the Mad King's daughter... they'll only see you as that!_

"Well, I am the Mad King's daughter." 

His gaze darkened and she was surprised at herself for imagining it so accurately. He seemed so... real. 

_You are so much more than that..._

A lump rose in her throat and her heart contracted. 

_You built all this yourself... you made so many people's lives better... don't destroy that._

She swallowed. 

He was right... 

“I will task Tyrion to send a raven to the north. It is time."


	47. before the siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a rather boring and short chapter but I hope it's not too bad xD Therefore, the coming chapters are pretty long and exciting!

"What about the fishing?" 

"I think the winter will make it more difficult, but that would be nothing new. It hasn't changed as much as you might think, My Lord," one of the men at the table said and he nodded in understanding. 

"Well... ten years. A third of my life... that's kind of a long time," he spoke his thoughts aloud. 

"I would say more like a quarter of your life," another laughed mockingly and the others joined in. 

The lord smirked slightly. 

"I'm afraid you could be right..." 

"Don't worry, it won't be bad until the first grey hairs come." 

Now he was laughing too, but fell silent when he saw Gendry and his worried face. His men hadn't noticed him, just kept talking and so didn't see the newly appointed Lord of Storm’s End hurrying over to the knight and muttering something to him. 

"There is a meeting in the library. The Queen has been attacked." 

He thought his heart must have stopped. 

He gave Gendry a horrified look, then, without warning, he jumped up and ran. Arriving at the door, he simply pushed it open and stepped into the room. His chest rose and fell, as he was trying to get enough air again and his hair had to be pretty dishevelled. 

"What happened?!" 

"Lord Mormont, what-?" 

He cut Jon off, pacing the room with a few steps. 

"Why wasn't I notified?" 

His angry gaze was fixed on his lord, but Lady Sansa replied. 

"You are now Lord of Bear Island and no longer your Queen's lapdog." 

"She is your queen, too!" interjected Jorah and Jon at the same time, and the knight gave the other a sullen look. 

Sansa continued impassively. 

"We will call a meeting after this small one and explain everything. In front of all the Lords of the North." 

Silence fell and everyone looked at Jorah expectantly, but he remained unimpressed. 

"Now will you please leave? We need to confer," Sansa finally said with a fake smile, which he returned with an equally fake one. 

"I don't think so. The Queen could always use my advice, why can't you?" 

Before she could say anything back, Jon said, "You have a right to be here, Lord Mormont." 

He gave his sister a quick look. 

"Forgive us for not thinking of you." 

Jorah tried to read his expression and he was sure they had thought of him very well and decidedly not told him. 

"I'm sorry," a gasp sounded at the door and Gendry came in. 

"I didn't know that-." 

He fell silent when he noticed the look Ser Davos was giving him and simply stood beside Jorah. 

"So... what happened?" the latter asked tensely, clenching his hands into fists. 

"Cersei set a trap for them. Euron Greyjoy waited behind a group of rocks with some of his ships and then attacked... with so-called scorpions. A well-aimed shot can kill a dragon, though no one aimed well. They probably shot the ship down too, causing it to sink, though most managed to escape to shore." 

The Onion Knight fell silent and looked to the ground, not really reassuring. 

Before Jorah could ask, what the problem was, Jon continued, "In the process, Euron has captured Missandei and she is now in King's Landing... Cersei has invited Daenerys to watch the execution." 

Oh no... 

He blinked and lowered his gaze. 

How had Daenerys reacted when she'd found out? What would she want to do to Cersei now? 

"Tyrion said in the letter that he could only just stop Daenerys from a hasty flight to King's Landing. She now calls on the North to support the siege of King's Landing." 

"Which we will do, of course, won’t we?" Jorah added, as Jon did not. 

Seeing the looks they exchanged between them, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Won’t we?" he echoed. 

"It's earlier than we though. We expected more time when we agreed on it." 

He snorted. 

Of course, Sansa would talk her way out of it. 

"Well, I will be moving to King's Landing with my men," he clarified, looking around the room. 

No one seemed surprised, and no one wanted to disagree. 

"Will House Stark join that, perhaps?" 

Jon glanced at his sister again and then replied. 

"Of course... We have sworn to do so." 

There you go... 

Lady Stark's expression made one think she had just bitten into a sour apple and he had to suppress a smile. 

What would have happened if he hadn't been here today? Maybe it actually was a good thing that he had accepted the post as Lord of Bear Island....

The warmth of the south was still unfamiliar, but he knew that it was usually much warmer here. Winter had come and had not exactly made their journey to King's Landing any easier. 

Jorah looked up in surprise as a figure came rushing into his tent without warning. He hoped to catch sight of Daenerys, but he was disappointed and almost ashamed to think she would seek him out. 

She had better things to do! They had nothing more to do with each other! Well, apart from the fact that she was his queen. 

"Mormont, you need to talk to the Queen!" 

So much for that... 

"What's wrong Lannister?" he sighed, setting aside Heartsbane, which he had just polished. 

Tyrion hurried towards him, staring at him with wide eyes. 

"I know you won't like to hear this, but please let me finish," he babbled, running a hand through his beard in a huff. 

The knight had never seen him so flustered. 

Before he could agree not to interrupt him, he continued, "Daenerys is not in her right mind! She's already tried to fly off twice to reduce King's Landing to rubble!" 

The Imp shrugged his shoulders. 

"I don't want to say she's crazy, but..." 

He looked urgently at his counterpart. 

"... You are probably the only one who can bring her to her senses." 

Jorah's gaze had wandered into the distance and was now focused on Tyrion again. When he finally brought his dry mouth up, there was uncertainty in his voice.

"Daenerys is not her father." 

"Of course not." 

"She didn't burn down King's Landing. If she were like him, she would have done it long ago." 

"Yes, agreed." 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Then what’s the problem? What makes you so sure she's mad?" 

The dwarf smiled bitterly, "Do you know what the only argument was that stopped her? It wasn't the fact that she would kill thousands of innocents or that Missandei was still alive..." 

The knight rose an eyebrow. 

"What then?" 

There was a brief silence before the answer came.

"You." 

"What?" 

"I told her that I was sure you would not approve." 

"And that was supposed to have been the all-important argument?" laughed Jorah, sure he was being pranked, but Tyrion continued to look at him seriously. 

"Mormont, ... when will you understand that you are the only person she trusts completely? When will you understand how important you are to her?" 

"I am sure I am not the most important person in her life... there are very many others-." 

"Which are?" 

"Missandei." 

"Alright, she is indeed important to her, but surely not more important than you!" 

"And what about Jon?" 

At this he was silent for a moment. 

"I don't know... However, I'm sure you won't get anywhere with her with that attitude. Have you thought about what I said to you before the feast?" 

The look he gave the Imp said more than words could have and the latter rolled his eyes. 

"Please just talk to her... I didn't think you of all people would find it so bad." 

"I don't find it bad!" 

"But you don't seem thrilled either!" 

"You just called my queen crazy!" 

"Even before that, you weren't thrilled!" 

"That was because I saw you." 

And without paying any further attention to him, Jorah got up and walked out of the tent. He had to hurry through half the camp until he reached hers, but before he could enter, he heard voices. 

Surprised, he stopped in front of the entrance, hidden from the shadows of the night. 

"You won't be able to break the wheel if they hate you." 

His breath caught as he recognised the voice. 

Jon. Honestly, who else would it be? 

"You don't understand, Jon! She led us all on and now she thinks she can do it again because she has Missandei!" 

"And what are you going to do?" 

Short silence. 

"If she really does kill Missandei, she'll see what she gets out of it. She can't play with me forever! Damn that siege, I want everyone to prepare for battle!" 

"And what if they surrender? What if they ring the bells and surrender?" 

"Then, of course, we will call off the attack." 

So much for crazy... 

Footsteps sounded. 

"Dany..." 

Jorah stared at the fabric of the tent in disgust and quickly took a few steps back. He really didn't need to hear THAT. 

Really, all this had to be a bad joke of the gods! 

With a heavy heart, he groped his way back to his tent, only to find that he really wasn't in the mood to sleep. So, he decided to take a little walk around the camp's perimeter. Keeping his eyes on the walls of King's Landing and greeting someone here and there, he strolled through the darkness of the night. 

Sometimes a few guards were startled when they saw him, but then relaxed when they recognised him and saw that he carried no weapons. Well, apart from his dagger, which he carried concealed by his cloak. 

It had quietened down as most of the soldiers had already disappeared into their tents and by the time he got to the part of the Unsullied, he felt that his footsteps must still be heard for miles around, so he began to tread a little more carefully and almost forgot what had so enraged him. He still felt he was being too loud and so moved a little away from the camp. 

The cold of the night caught him off guard, but since he was used to it, it wasn't too bad and he stopped briefly to look at the clouds his breath formed in the moonlight. 

He froze when he suddenly became aware of a rustling and upset hissing very close to him. He didn’t understand what the voices were saying, but it was clear that they did not want to be heard. 

Resting one hand on the hilt of his dagger, he approached the small patch of forest. He made out the voice behind one of the bushes and circled it, first silently pressing himself against a tree trunk and then carefully scurrying to the next tree, hidden by the darkness and more bushes. 

He listened again. 

The voices had fallen silent. He pressed his lips together. 

Damn! Had they heard him? 

Cautiously he peeked out from behind the tree and before he knew it someone hit him in the face so hard, he saw stars and was almost sure it must have been a hammer. He crashed backwards onto the ground and instantly felt the blade on his throat. 

He blinked a few times but couldn't make out more than an outline. 

"Jaime, don't!" 

His irritated gaze found Tyrion staring in horror at the man leaning over Jorah, who had to be Jaime Lannister. His brother. 

Thanks to Tyrion's shout, he was momentarily distracted and did not see Jorah's hand find the dagger hilt. Without hesitation he thrust the sword with the small blade aside, kicked Ser Jaime's legs out from under him and rolled over him. 

Cursing, they tussled, but Jorah had the dagger and two hands. Furious, they both stared at each other. 

"Could you maybe tell your friend that I am highly allergic to daggers? Especially when they are held so close to my throat..." the older knight with the golden hair brought out. 

"Mormont! Please... just let him-." 

"What? Leave?" growled Jorah, but dared not give the queen's hand a glance. 

"I think our Queen will decide what to do with him." 

"Please... Ser Jorah, I beg you!" 

He rose an eyebrow in surprise. The fact that Tyrion called him Ser Jorah had to mean that the situation was serious to him. 

"You have met with an enemy, Tyrion! I wonder what Daenerys will think of that." 

"Let me explain why I met with him!" 

Tyrion took the silence as an invitation to continue. 

"I wanted to convince him to persuade Cersei to give up." 

The Lord of Bear Island snorted. 

"Exactly... As if she-." 

"It's not so unlikely! She has nothing left to keep her here. If she had the chance to start a new life in Essos, she would... maybe." 

He let the words sink in and stepped a little closer to take the dagger from his hand. Immediately Jaime pushed him away and jumped up, but made no move to attack him. Growling, the other knight also straightened up, still not daring to take his eyes off his opponent. 

"I fear I cannot keep secrets from our Queen, Tyrion... you know that." 

"Please give him a chance to convince Cersei. It could prevent an entire battle." 

"Do you really think she'll listen to him? What has become of you, Lannister?" said Jorah, stepping on the blade of the sword as Jaime tried to pick it up, to which the older knight smiled and stepped close to him. 

"Lord Mormont..." 

He came closer and closer to him until they were separated by only a few inches and Jorah resisted the urge to back away. 

"Do you really think I would have come here if I wasn't sure I could change my sister's mind? Besides, you should think of the slave girl." 

He narrowed his eyes to slits at the words, but did nothing, knowing he might not be quick enough. 

"What would happen to her if-." 

"We had you as a hostage?" the Lord finished unbidden. 

"I think that sounds good." 

Ser Jaime shrugged. 

"Have you not heard from the Starks that I am a terrible hostage?" 

"Mormont, if you let him go, we could save not only Missandei's life, but that of all the people of King's Landing and all the soldiers as well." 

"If that's so great, why don't we discuss it with the queen?" 

"You know she won't see it that way." 

Reluctantly, he pulled a wry face, but then stepped away from the sword and turned to Tyrion. 

"I will tell her about this tomorrow and you will take all the blame!" 

"No need, I will tell her myself."


	48. Dracarys

She stared at Tyrion. 

"I should have known..." 

Daenerys turned away. She couldn't look at him any longer. 

"What should you have known, Your Grace?" he asked uncertainly, to which she let out a bitter laugh. 

"That you are no better than anyone else. That you too will betray me, for after all, you too are just another Lannister." 

Turning back to him, she saw the slight horror that briefly took dominion over his expression. 

"Your Grace, do you not understand what this could mean? Cersei may give up... Missandei will live and you will become queen without further bloodshed." 

"If this plan is so good, why did you not come to me with your brother? Why did you hold this meeting behind my back?" 

She hesitated for a moment. 

"Why are you even telling me?" 

Tyrion lowered his gaze sheepishly and, if she was not mistaken, a little fearfully. 

"Ser Jorah discovered us and-." 

"And wanted to bring Ser Jaime to me, but you stopped him and promised to tell me yourself," she finished his sentence unintentionally harshly. 

That surprised him, but he quickly regained his composure. 

"Yes... that's how it was." 

She felt a slight twinge in her chest. 

Why hadn't he come to her yet? She had spent all of yesterday waiting for him... in the evening she had finally heard footsteps, but had quickly realised it was Jon. Their conversation had not been particularly pleasant and neither had what happened afterwards. 

She had wanted to kiss him - for whatever reason - and he had simply rejected her! Maybe he had realised that she was only sleeping with him because it was a nice distraction from reality... If she was completely honest, it had hurt a bit, but whether it was because she had no one now or because she really cared about Jon, she didn't know. 

"Well, we'll see if your meeting did any good... I hope so for your sake and Ser Jorah's." 

Tyrion rose his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing and an awkward silence fell. 

"Have you changed your mind after talking to him?" he broke through it then and she just looked at him confused. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"About your conversation... last evening." 

She shook her head in irritation. 

"Ser Jorah was not here last night." 

"But I... met him on the way to your tent."

Her mouth dropped open as realisation hit her. He had heard her talking to Jon... or worse... 

"Your Grace?" 

She barely heard Tyrion's concerned voice. 

What had she done? Why had she got involved with Jon in the first place? 

She looked to her right and as suspected he stood there. His hair neatly combed, in his black armour and his blue eyes sadly fixed on the ground. It took all her self-control not to go to him. Tyrion was still here too... and she knew he didn't see what she saw. 

"Your Grace, are you alright?" 

Before she could say anything back, the new officer of the Unsullied came stomping into the tent. 

"We are being ready." 

She painfully remembered Grey Worm, who had mastered the Common Tongue unlike all the other soldiers... thanks to Missandei. 

Daenerys closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. 

She nodded and left the tent, a group of Dothraki close on her heels. Reaching the end of the path, she mounted her horse and took a quick look around. The Unsullied and the Dothraki were ready and as her gaze swept over the Northmen, she knew they were too... though they didn't look particularly happy. She looked up at the sky and smiled when she saw her dragons. They were certainly ready. 

She nodded to her officers and set her horse in motion. With an impassive expression, she rode along the King’s Road. They crossed a small rise and before them surrendered the barren countryside outside the city walls. 

"Looks like your plan worked out quite nicely," she said sarcastically, addressing Tyrion and looking at the army that had lined up in front of the wall. 

The Golden Company. 

"Perhaps this is just a precaution on Cersei's part..." the dwarf replied meekly, looking anxiously at all the scorpions on the wall. 

Daenerys gave him an angry look. 

"Sometimes I wonder whose side you're on. And don't come with all those innocent people who, if I remember rightly, wanted you all dead for a crime you supposedly didn't commit." 

Without waiting for a reply, she spurred her horse again and rode ahead along the path until she was only ten yards from the other army. The Unsullied and Northmen lined up behind her, while the Dothraki waited along with the dragons on the hill. 

"Cersei must be enjoying the last moments of her life..." 

Tyrion, who had just stopped beside her, sighed but said nothing. 

At last, several people appeared on the platform above the Dragon's Gate. First some of the Queen's Guard, Jaime among them, then Cersei and finally... Missandei. Dany's throat tightened and she gripped the reins of her horse so tightly that her nails dug deep into her own flesh. 

"It doesn't look like she wants to give up." 

"I'll talk to her," Tyrion said firmly and got off his horse before Daenerys could object. 

The Golden Company cleared a path for him. When Tyrion arrived at the gate, her breath caught as several arcs were aimed at him. But Cersei rose her hand and they were lowered again. 

Relieved, she closed her eyes, then she turned her gaze to her friend. When she realised she was handcuffed, her grief vanished. Her gaze darted to the Lion Queen, who just seemed amused by Tyrion's words, and back to Missandei. She had lowered her gaze to the ground and Dany's heart began to beat faster when a giant of a man pushed her to the edge of the platform. 

She hadn't been able to understand the exchange of words and she looked back at Tyrion. He had turned away and tried to walk back, but he stopped because Cersei had said something. 

This time Daenerys had understood too. 

"Any last words?"

No... no! Tyrion had assured her that it would not come to this! 

The dwarf was now stumbling backwards. He was just arriving at the end of the ranks of the enemy’s army when Missandei's shaky voice was carried over the soldiers’ heads. 

"DRACARYS!" 

Dany's heart stopped. 

Her friend had risen her gaze and looked her queen in the eye and it was at that moment that Daenerys realised she had no choice but to take the words to heart and seek revenge. And how she would take her revenge... 

It was as if the mountain drew his sword in slow motion. He rose it... and Daenerys stopped breathing. 

"I'm sorry..." 

No one heard her breathed words...   
She would have preferred to shout it.   
She wanted Missandei to hear her.   
She wanted her to know how much it hurt to witness this.   
She wanted her to understand that she was the only true friend she had ever had. 

The blade whizzed through the air and separated her head from her body with frightening ease. 

Daenerys wanted to scream, but it was as if her mouth had been sealed. As if she had forgotten how to make a single sound. 

The body stood for a horrendous moment; then it toppled over. Dany heard herself exhale, then the body crashed to the ground and the roaring in her ears drowned out everything around her as if on cue. 

She felt sick; her vision blurred. 

When she looked back up at Cersei and recognised the grin on her face, she thought her anger must be tearing her apart. This bitch had made a mistake. 

Daenerys yanked on her mare's reins and galloped back down the path to her dragons. The only thing she was aware of: Her racing heart. 

She shot through the ranks of her Dothraki and, arriving next to Drogon, leapt from her horse. Her eyes burned, but the fire within her was greater. 

She climbed onto her Black Dread. 

"Burn them... burn them all!" 

Drogon growled and swung into the air, Rhaegal close behind them. The Dothraki had increased their war cries and were racing to the Unsullied below them. The Dothraki shot out from between the lines of Unsullied and Northerners, but before they could reach the Golden Company... 

"DRACARYS!" 

... the front ranks of the enemy’s army were in flames. 

"AAAAHHHHH!" Dany's scream boomed in her own ears and the dragons joined in. 

They blew up the first scorpions and more screams joined them, but they were screams of fear and pain. 

"BURN THEM ALL!" 

And they did. Her children dodged the scorpions and then explosively destroyed them. 

"BURN THEM ALL!" 

Drogon roared out. 

"DRACARYS!" 

Rhaegal shouted, disposing of the last of the Scorpions as Daenerys turned to the Golden Company. The Dothraki had already done most of the work, but there was still the wall... 

"DRACARYS!" 

And Drogon melted the metre-thick stone wall, including the wooden gate. He roared again, so that his whole body trembled, and swung himself higher into the air again. A quick glance at the Blackwater told her that Rhaegal was taking care of the ships and she would have smiled had she not been obsessed with the image of her friend. 

She had to find Cersei. 

She couldn't possibly be at the Red Keep already, no, she still had to be on one of the roads, so Daenerys turned her dragon and flew along the Street of Sisters, leaving a trail of fire behind her. The screams grew louder, but she blanked them out. 

They were only soldiers. 

Soldiers who served Cersei. 

And there she was. 

Surrounded by her Queen's Guard, she stumbled down the street as fast as she could... She looked so pathetic. Dany was about to give the word to burn her, but she changed her mind. 

Drogon gave a confused screech. 

"Grab her!" 

She didn't know if he understood her, but he lowered himself... and grabbed the lioness with his claws. She heard a startled cry that must have come from her, and another. 

"No! NO!" 

Looking at the ground, she recognised Jaime Lannister who was looking after her with his face distorted with anger and fear at the same time. At that moment, a new wave of hatred hit her and she didn't want to punish Cersei with death anymore... 

At her command, Drogon flew a curve and back at the guards. 

"DRACARYS!" 

And before they knew it, they were on fire. 

"No! JAIME!" she heard Cersei whimper. 

His cries of pain died away as he slumped lifelessly to the ground and satisfaction filled Dany. Now it was time for the lioness to go. She pushed Drogon higher and higher. 

"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE WOKEN THE DRAGON, YOUR GRACE!" 

She didn't know if the other so-called queen was saying anything or perhaps was already dead, yet she gave him the order to let her go. 

And Cersei fell... and fell... and hit the ground. 

Drogon roared out again and she almost missed it. Bells. The Bells. 

The city surrendered. 

She drove Drogon to the dragon pit and he settled on the highest ruin. Rhaegal sat down close to her and only now did she notice that she was out of breath. Her chest rose and fell and as she looked around, pride filled her.... 

She saw her army marching through the streets, but they were no longer fighting. The city was hers. She had made it. But as her gaze drifted back to the wall, she remembered what it had all cost her. 

Viserion... half her army... Missandei. 

_DAENERYS! WE DID IT!_

She turned and spotted Jorah sitting on the back of her green dragon. His smile warmed her heart and she had to laugh too. 

He seemed so happy... finally it was over and she realised... It wasn't too late. She hadn't lost him yet! Maybe she could convince him to give up Bear Island and-. 

_DAENERYS... THE WAR IS O-!_

She froze. 

Jorah was pierced by a huge spear that hurled him from the dragon. Rhaegal gave a strangled cry and struggled to swing himself into the air, and the next spear was already fired... catching his ribcage. 

"No... NO!" 

Rhaegal cried out in agony as he was caught another time, this time his neck. 

Daenerys frantically searched for the scorpion that was firing those spears, but her eyes had glazed over and she couldn't see straight. Drogon too was terrified and swung his head back and forth in anger. 

Rhaegal cried out one last time, then a spear pierced his skull and he crashed down. On impact he destroyed countless houses and there must have been a deafening sound... but Daenerys did not hear it. 

A persistent beeping filled her head, clouding her senses and she could only think of one thing. 

Jorah and Rhaegal had just been murdered. 

She shook her head in confusion. 

But... that couldn't be! The city had surrendered!

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Rhaegal's body was consumed by green fire in seconds. Green fire that was now blowing up whole rows of houses and just wouldn't stop. 

Trap... this had to have been a trap set by Cersei. 

Daenerys blinked. 

This couldn't actually be happening.   
She was imagining it!   
She was imagining all of this!   
This couldn't be real! 

Without warning, Drogon pushed himself off the ruin, not a second too soon, for a moment later a spear whizzed through the air, narrowly missing her, and she realised that this was real. 

The unbelievable..., impossible reality. 

And anger boiled up inside her again, this time supported by sadness. She had broken off the attack... and then been betrayed. 

They would pay for this. 

"DRACARYS!"

Slowly... very slowly, she put one foot in front of the other, compressing the ashes under her feet. Her black armour rattled very softly with each of her steps. Drogon gave a roar behind her and rose into the air to settle on one of the ruined walls. The Targaryen banners hung everywhere, letting everyone know that she, Daenerys Stormborn, now ruled. 

She had expected that thought to delight her... to make her heart beat faster with joy, but it felt like a hole had been burned in her chest. She felt neither joy nor any other feeling. An emptiness filled her... an emptiness that made her question the meaning of life. 

She had wanted to bring peace to Westeros... to make it a better place. And all she had got was betrayal. Betrayal upon betrayal upon betrayal. Nothing but betrayal. 

When the bells had rung, she had thought she had finally achieved something. She had thought she could finally be happy... And then everything had gone wrong. 

She still hadn't been able to ask anyone to look for Jorah's body, but she wasn't even sure she wanted to see it... or could bear seeing it. 

A lone tear ran down her face, but no one paid any attention to it. Of course, they didn't. 

She walked forward to the first steps and stopped. Before her, all her Dothraki and some of her Unsullied had gathered. Where the Northerners were, she did not know. Perhaps she had scared them and they had tucked their wolf tails and run. 

Daenerys lifted her gaze and looked over her cheering army to the city, of which only rubble remained. Some of the fires that had been lit were still burning and smoke was rising into the sky, but it was nothing serious. It was hard to imagine that people had once lived here. 

"Blood of my blood!" 

They fell silent and listened to her following words. 

"You kept all your promises to me! You killed my enemies in their iron suits!" 

Again, some cheered. 

"You tore down their stone houses. You gave me the Seven Kingdoms!" 

Drogon roared along with the Dothraki. Now she turned to the other part of her army. 

"Unsullied! All of you were torn from your mothers' arms and raised as slaves. Now... you are liberators! You have freed the people of King's Landing from the grip of a tyrant!" 

They tapped their spears on the ground in approval. 

"But the war is not over. We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world! From Winterfell to Dorne! From Lannisport to Qarth! From the Summer Islands to the Jade Sea! Women, men and children have suffered too long beneath the wheel. WILL YOU BREAK THE WHEEL WITH ME?!" 

Again, Drogon roared; again, the ends of the spears were pounded on the ground; again, the Dothraki cheered. 

Suddenly Tyrion appeared beside her, watching the action. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. 

"You were wrong... about everything." 

A thought occurred to her. 

"Because of you, Missandei, Rhaegal and…”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“… and Jorah are dead." 

It was all his fault! 

If she hadn't listened to him... She could have freed Missandei when Euron was still on his way to King’s Landing… Jorah and Rhaegal would have never been pierced by those spears. 

"And because of you, an entire city has been destroyed and millions have been slaughtered," he retorted, his voice trembling with grief and suppressed anger. 

Before she could say anything else in reply, he grabbed his pin, which she had given him back in Meereen, and threw it down the steps. Immediately everyone fell silent. It was a small gesture, but it had a tremendous impact. 

Daenerys had gone pale. 

How dare he...? 

"Take him!" 

How had she been so wrong about him? 

He gave her one last cool look and was led away by a pair of Unsullied. She had lost her last advisor… 

It was then that she noticed Jon, who had been standing behind her all along, staring at her in mild shock. She closed her eyes bitterly and turned away to leave.

Dany knew that her footsteps would have echoed off the walls if they were still whole and if the floor were not covered in ash. She could imagine the colourful windows of the throne room, how her ancestors had once lived here..., how they had ruled here. 

Then her eyes fell on the Iron Throne. Forged by Aegon the Conqueror from the swords of his enemies. Her destiny. Everything she had worked for over the years. 

Cautiously she approached it, but felt no awe as she had expected, only sorrow. As she reached out to stroke one of the handles, the burden that had weight on her shoulders crushed her and she broke down sobbing. 

What good was this lump of iron to her? Had she really sacrificed the lives of her loved ones for this? Had she really killed thousands... if not millions of people? 

She sniffled and it took a moment for her to look up again. 

What had she done wrong? 

She stood up after a while. 

Neither Jorah, nor Missandei would want her to drown in her pain. Her life was not completely useless, after all. She could still help other people... free them. Live up to her name, Breaker of Chains. After all, she had nothing to lose now... 

"Daenerys!" 

Surprised, she spun around and recognised Jon. 

"What were you thinking?" 

His tone was not reproachful, as Tyrion's had been, but simply confused. 

She swallowed... 

He was the last person she trusted even remotely. He was the last person who was there for her. 

"You wouldn't understand..." she murmured, surprised when he stepped even closer to her. 

"I want to understand though. I want to understand you." 

"They've all betrayed me, Jon... every single one in this city has betrayed me. They didn't support us in the battle against the Night King, or when my friend was murdered." 

She sighed. 

"I am tired of being betrayed. I can't have traitors when I want to break the wheel." 

He closed his eyes and for a moment she thought he was disappointed in her, like everyone else, but then he looked at her again and she thought she saw understanding. 

"And you are willing to accept such losses." 

It was more a statement than a question, yet she nodded slowly. 

"If it means I get closer to my goal." 

"And that is?" 

"To break the wheel." 

Now he nodded. 

"Then I will help you."

She blinked in surprise as he came even closer and she smiled in relief, "I was hoping I could count on you." 

And before she could stop herself, she pulled him in for a hug. 

"NO!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather confusing so I guess you might have some questions. Well, they'll probably be answered in the next chapter ;)


	49. I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized there was not a single chapter that had this name so y'know, I had to change that lol (yes, I also didn't know what else to name this)

"DRACARYS!" 

Jorah turned away quickly. He could not watch Missandei being beheaded, for he would probably have thrown up if he had. His closed eyes didn't stop him from hearing the thud, though, and it was that moment when he realised that Cersei was lost. Not that this monster did not deserve it, but he feared that she was not the only one to suffer the consequences. 

The Lord of Bear Island looked to his right, where he had seen Daenerys standing, but all he could see of her now was her mare's tail and her own silver hair, neatly braided as always. 

He swallowed and turned back to King's Landing. 

The Golden Company had no idea what was about to hit them. The first war cries of the Dothraki rang out and the front ranks of the sellswords grew restless. Did they really expect to survive this? 

He heard shattering roar and when he looked up, he was looking directly at Rhaegal's belly. At the same moment the first horse and rider whizzed past him and the Dothraki rushed screaming at their intimidated opponents. 

Jorah looked around and when the last horse had disappeared from their ranks, Jon gave the signal. The signal for the attack and the knight sprinted off. His heart was already racing like mad, partly because of the excitement, partly because of the ten metres he had to run in full armour. 

He had already drawn his sword and rose it screaming for the first blow. Beside him, his men were also slashing at their opponents and it was almost too easy. Jorah ducked under a blade and rammed his sword into his opponent's stomach, only to stab the next one from behind. 

Breathing heavily, he looked up at the sky and was relieved to see that both dragons were still flying and letting fire rain. Just then Drogon came flying towards the walls again and opened his mouth. The next moment there was some kind of explosion as the fire hit the stones and wood. 

He was forced to turn away and fight off another sellsword, but when he looked back towards the city wall, he saw melted stone and burning pieces of wood lying all around. A huge entrance to King's Landing had been created and the first Unsullied and Dothraki were climbing over the rubble already. They had finished off the Golden Company within minutes... 

Incredulous, he followed the Northerners and immediately he found himself in the next battle, this time against Lannister soldiers. 

The roar of the lions sounded pathetic compared to that of the dragons. 

A sword struck him unprepared against the back and he crashed to the ground. He spat out dirt and grabbed his own weapon, which had been cast out of his hand, but when he straightened up and went to attend to his attacker, he was already lying at his feet. 

He nodded gratefully to his saviour and went to fight the nearest Lannister soldier. 

Suddenly there was such a loud scream that he would have liked to cover his ears, but he managed to look up and search for the dragons with his eyes. Rhaegal had disappeared and for a terrible moment he thought he had been caught, but then he spotted him over the Blackwater Bay, tending to the ships. Drogon flew right over the city and... flew straight AWAY into the clouds, higher and higher. Jorah just realised that the dragon was holding something in its claws when it dropped it. His mouth opened as he realised who it had to be, or rather had been. Cersei. 

Dumbfounded, he looked back at Drogon, who was now turning to more groups of the Lannister army and setting them ablaze. 

The knight blinked, took a deep breath and followed some soldiers heading for the dragon pit. They moved through the deserted alleys without encountering any resistance. 

The citizens had probably holed up in the inner-city core, which was obviously smarter than staying here. They were just coming around another corner, panting, when the bells sounded. They all paused at the same time, astonished. 

This meant they had won. 

Surprised, he looked around at the soldiers, who were all as surprised as he was. 

"Is it... over?" one young man asked and another patted him on the back with a grin. 

"Aye, it is." 

Jorah couldn't stop smiling when a movement behind some bushes caught his eye. He wiped some dirt from his face and looked again. Nothing. How strange... 

The screams in the sky announced the two dragons settling on the remaining ruins of the dragon pit, both seeming quite content. Drogon roared again and slapped his tail on the ground. The knight had to laugh and his gaze fell on Daenerys, who looked as surprised as he was. 

"We did it..." he muttered to himself and then turned back to the other men. 

"WE FUCKING DID IT!" 

"AYE, WE FUCKED THOSE LIONS QUITE WELL!" 

Still happy, they looked around. 

"Well, maybe we should go find all the others," suggested one, who was cleaning his sword blade. 

"Aye, that sounds good." 

They were just turning away when they heard an ear-piercing scream. 

RHAEGAL! 

Jorah turned, white as a sheet, towards the crumbling walls of the dragon pit. 

The green dragon swung awkwardly into the air as fast as he could, his claws scraping across the rubble as he tried to push himself off but always slid away. The knight didn't understand what was going on at first, then a spear hissed out of nowhere and drilled into the dragon's chest, who cried out in agony. 

"We have to get away from of here!" one of the soldiers shouted, backing away, and then ran. 

The others were close on his heels, but Jorah remained where he was. 

He couldn’t move. 

He even forgot to breathe for a moment. 

His eyes searched for the scorpion that had to fire the spears and as the next one flew, he spotted it. Hidden in a bush, it was probably impossible to see it from the air thanks to the trees and their canopy that stood there. 

Rhaegal's screams were just a long-drawn-out whimper and when another spear hit him, he finally crashed down. 

"No..." 

Jorah shook his head in a daze. 

"NO!" 

His gaze fell on that bush again and anger ignited inside him, setting his veins on fire, making every breath agonising yet spurring him on. He began stumbling over boulders, picking up speed. 

Whoever had killed Rhaegal would pay. 

Tears burned in his eyes, tears that he tried to blink away, but, as he broke rashly through the branches, those tears were forgot. He didn’t recognise the other man until he turned to him and grinned stupidly in his face. 

Euron Greyjoy. 

The two stared at each other for a moment, then the kraken quickly drew his sword and was about to attack, but the bear blocked the blow before it even gained momentum. He gasped in shock as a dagger found a way between his ribs and stumbled back, his face contorted in pain. 

The kraken attacked again, this time the other was not prepared for it and he only just managed to dodge and deflect the next blow. Then Jorah managed a light left side blow followed by a right one, which Euron easily blocked, so the bear bared its teeth and hit the kraken even faster and harder. The kraken laughed in surprise and drew another sword so that he could block the attacks with two blades. 

Jorah growled, knocked one out of his hand again and gave him a swift kick to the chest, causing him to fall to the ground and lose the other sword as well. The knight stumbled towards him but landed in the dirt beside him a moment later, having kicked his legs out from under him. He gasped in fright and grabbed Euron's arm just in time as the latter had tried to ram a dagger into his neck. 

The kraken wriggled out of his grip and jumped up, putting a foot on the bear's neck before he could do the same. Jorah gasped and reflexively grabbed the foot, its stance growing heavier. 

"Bastard!" he huffed, fighting for breath and thought he could see stars tinkling in front of his eyes. 

He began to fumble with one hand at his weapon belt until he found the dagger. He paused for a moment, drew it and began stabbing the kraken’s leg without warning. He cried out in pain and backed off. 

"FUCK!" 

Finally getting his breath back, the bear grabbed his sword and propped himself up on it, pulling himself back to his feet. In the meantime, Euron had also recovered and picked up his two swords. 

Now both stood staring at each other tensely, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

Finally, the kraken attacked first and the bear let him pass him, then knocked another sword out of his hand and dodged the other. Euron then managed to disarm the knight, who immediately had his dagger to hand, flicked the longer blade aside and pounced on the other. 

Both crashed to the ground so hard that they lay motionless for a moment, but Jorah quickly regained his composure and thrust the sword out of reach. Euron elbowed him in the face, making him taste blood; in revenge he jammed the dagger into his arm. 

Blinded by pain, the kraken was momentarily inattentive and the bear threw the dagger away, only to wrap his arms around his opponent's neck from behind. Both rolled across the ground, gasping, as Euron tried to free himself, but Jorah did not let go. Not even when the other found a stone and started to hit him as hard as he could. The knight only gave a suppressed cry and pulled his arms together with a strong jerk, just at that moment the stone caught him at the temple. 

_Crack!_

Euron stopped moving and the other felt sick with pain. His field of vision blurred and he could only push the Greyjoy away with the last of his strength, then the darkness enveloped him and he was gone.

Daenerys! 

He opened his eyes and immediately the pain rolled over him like a wave. He groaned and struggled to his feet, coughing. His throat was parched and he was sure he owed the scratching to the filth in his mouth. He wiped sweat- and blood-stained hair from his eyes and blinked a few times to get his bearings. 

Where was he? What had happened? 

His eyes fell on Euron and he automatically placed a hand on his temple as his head felt like it was about to burst. When he looked at his fingers and recognised the dried blood, he almost fell over again. 

"Damn..." 

Grumbling, he dragged himself out of the bushes and looked around. His eyes widened as he saw the buildings, or rather the ruins of the buildings of King's Landing. Small fires were still burning everywhere and there didn't seem to be a single house intact. 

“Seven Hells, what...?" 

In the distance he heard cries of pain and lamentation and it turned his stomach. As he limped through the streets, looking at the damage, he realised that it couldn't have all been the dragons. 

Well, that didn't change the fact that there were soot-smeared children kneeling crying next to motionless bodies in the street. It didn't change the fact that there were injured and charred corpses. He had never, in his entire life, seen anything so terrible. 

At first, he had looked around to take in the situation, now he just wanted to duck his head and get out of here. 

At some point - it seemed like half an eternity - he arrived at the Red Keep... or what was left of it. He had met some Dothraki on the way and now, as he crossed the ruined gate, he met more and a few Unsullied. 

He hurried towards the Horselords. 

"Where is the queen?" 

"Who are you?" 

He blinked in confusion. 

How did it come that they didn’t know him? He was one of Daenerys’s highest gen-. Oh… 

"Jorah Mormont. I... I need to see our Queen." 

He needed to know what had happened. 

"You used to be her... knight?" 

"Yes, I did," he agreed, trying to keep his footing, though he was beginning to feel dizzy. 

The Dothraki nodded in understanding. 

"I don't know where she is, but I can take you to the dwarf." 

Jorah hesitated briefly, but then agreed. 

"Alright." 

Maybe Tyrion could explain to him what had happened here... and maybe he knew where Daenerys was. The Dothraki turned around without a word and walked away, which Jorah took as an invitation to follow him. He struggled to keep up with him and was surprised when they arrived outside a guarded room and stopped. 

"Weapons must remain outside." 

The knight looked at the guard, puzzled, and then fumbled with his weapon belt. He had only one dagger left. Reluctantly he handed it over and the door was opened. 

"I have considerably more visitors this time than the last time I was in a cell," he heard Tyrion sigh. 

Jorah entered slowly and immediately the door was closed again. He looked around, too perplexed to form a single word. 

Now the dwarf turned to him and nearly fell off his chair when he recognised him. 

"Mormont?!" 

He stood up and the knight noticed the handcuffs clinking softly. 

"You are still alive?" 

"Of course, I am," he replied, now even more irritated, and slowly lowered himself onto a crate. 

"Why did you think I was dead?" 

"Not me. Daenerys." 

As he spoke her name, his voice lowered in annoyance. 

"She saw you pierced by one of the spears when you sat on Rhaegal." 

Jorah frowned. 

As far as he remembered, he had never sat on Rhaegal... wait... Rhaegal! He remembered his fall and... he had to be dead. 

He took a shaky breath and turned back to Tyrion. 

"What happened, Tyrion? Why are you in a cell and why is the city... gone?" 

The Imp laughed bitterly. 

"It was her." 

"That can't be true." 

"Fine, she had some help from wildfire." 

Maybe Jorah didn't understand because his head hurt so much… or maybe it was because none of this made any sense! 

"So... Why are you here? Where is your pin?" 

Only now did he notice that Tyrion was not wearing the small golden hand. 

"Daenerys is no longer my queen," he snorted and Jorah's mouth dropped open. 

"What?" 

"Do you not see what she has done?" 

"You said it was the wildfire!" 

"Not only! Thanks to her and her cursed beast, it spread!" 

"Maybe... maybe she didn't know how to deal with it..." he tried to defend his queen, but realised himself that he was failing. 

"And that's why the whole city burned down? Face it, Mormont... We failed." 

"What do you mean?" 

"That she's mad, dammit!" 

The knight flinched back as if he'd been slapped in the face. 

"All that's left for us to do now is to end this." 

"And what’s that supposed to mean?" 

"Words will do nothing for Daenerys anymore..." 

He still looked at him questioningly.

"It means that we were wrong about her and now we should get rid of her as quickly as possible before something like this can happen again." 

_Smack!_

This time Tyrion flinched, though he really had been slapped in the face. 

"How dare you!" hissed Jorah, jumping to his feet. 

"Do you really expect me to kill her?!" 

"I would never ask that of you..." 

He stared at the Imp for a moment, then realised the meaning of his words. 

"I only want you to stay out of Jon's way," the latter added with a significant look that Jorah did not see as he rushed to the door and pounded on the wood. It was opened and he rushed out. 

"I should have let you drown, Lannister!" 

He snatched the dagger from the Dothraki's hand and ran. His whole body protested, but what if he was too late? He sped up even more and collided with an Unsullied, but he just stumbled on and caught himself after a few steps. Then he had to stopped. Damn! 

The lord turned around and called after the unsullied, "Where is the queen?" 

He just looked at him quizzically and then walked on, not understanding the Common Tongue. 

Frantically he looked around, one shiver after another running down his spine. 

Where could she be? 

There seemed to be no one with her... 

Where would she go? 

He closed his eyes. 

Where was she…? 

The throne room. 

That was his only chance. If she was somewhere else... He didn't even want to imagine it. 

He started moving again, hurrying up staircase after staircase. Along with his panting, he was now aware of voices. Voices he knew all too well. 

He was not too late! 

He slowed down a little so they wouldn't hear him right away and turned around one of the ruined walls. Where the huge oak gates had once been, there was now nothing left. There was no ceiling either. Drogon had actually destroyed everything... 

His footsteps were muffled by the ashes covering the floor and he dared to walk a little faster again. At the end of the room, he saw her. 

Daenerys was standing close to Jon and just at that moment she fell into his arms and closed her eyes. 

Jorah stopped in dead tracks, then his eyes darted to Jon's hand. One had to be on Dany's back, but the other had encircled something attached to his weapon belt. 

No... 

The knight picked up speed again.

"NO!" 

Daenerys snapped her eyes open; Jon drew his dagger; Jorah drew his own as well... and the bear threw himself full force against the white wolf, who yelped in fright and went down with him. Neither of them heard Dany's cry of horror. Jorah still had a tight grip on his dagger and struck out. 

For a moment he and Jon just stared at one another, wide-eyed... 

Then the blade whizzed through the air and cut Jon's throat. He opened his mouth in shock and gasped as he choked on his own blood. 

He had wanted to kill Daenerys! 

The knight was about to lunge again, but Dany’s sobs stopped him. He left Jon lying there in his last moments and stumbled to her. She was sitting on the steps holding her side. 

When she removed her hand, they were covered in blood. 

"No..." 

Jorah rushed to her and dropped to his knees beside her. 

"No, no, no!" 

Horrified, he stared at her wound and tried to stop the bleeding with his trembling hands as he sniffled and wiped his tears on his shoulder. 

"Jorah..." 

Dany's voice was soft... no more than a breath. Her hand touched his cheek and wiped away his tears. 

"You're alive?" 

He was shaken with despair and managed a nod. 

"I would never leave you, Daenerys. Never." 

"You're real?" 

He blinked, confused and genuinely concerned... Had she lost that much blood already? 

"Of course, I am,” he whispered with croaky voice and took her hand to squeeze it reassuringly. 

She sobbed... pleased though, "It really is you..." 

And before he knew it, she was pulling him close to kiss him. He returned the kiss without hesitation, feeling that she was still smiling. She let go of his lips so she could look into his eyes and he rose his bloodied hand to brush a silver lock back behind her ear. 

Suddenly a roar sounded above them and Drogon landed beside them, making the ground tremble alarmingly. 

Jorah looked from him back to Daenerys.

"I'm so sorry..." 

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he recognised his own agony reflected in them. 

Drogon gave a growl, approaching them and when he realised where the blood was coming from, he cooed in fright. The knight turned his attention back to the wound and was relieved to see that the bleeding had subsided. Jon's dagger had not caught it as badly as expected... 

Still, this did not soothe Jorah so he cut off a piece of Jon's tunic, which he placed on the wound and fastened with his own weapon belt. 

"Perhaps we should see a maester..." said Daenerys, having watched the whole thing and now looking at him again with wide eyes. 

He knelt down in front of her and reached out to caress her cheek. 

"Daenerys... I don't think..." 

He couldn't bring himself to... he couldn't tell her. But he had to. 

"Don't you understand that this was just the beginning?" 

He nodded towards Jon.

"He was the first, but not the last. The people here fear dragons and will never forget what it was like when Aerys ruled and... and you are his daughter." 

"I'm nothing like my father!" 

"I know! But... but apparently no one else does." 

He lowered his gaze and pulled his hand back. 

"I'm sorry. I’m so sorry…" 

Her gasps and low growls surprised him and as he looked back up, he saw that she was trying to get up. Quickly he rose himself and helped her. 

“Gently… Gently…” 

Finally, she was standing on her feet in front of him, still holding onto his arms. 

"You mean I should give up? Throw away everything I've worked for over the last ten years?" she asked miserably, whereupon he shook his head. 

"Not everything... You can fly back to Meereen and live there. The Meereenese love you and… and Daario and his Stormcrows can protect you!" 

Her gaze dropped and he was beginning to fear she wouldn't listen. 

"Will you come with me?" 

He opened his mouth, struggling for words. 

Of course, he wanted to! But... but he could not. He had to stay here. 

"I can't." 

"You said you would never leave me!" 

He didn’t know whether the hurt or the pleading in her voice was worse. 

"I... I have to stay here to tell what happened. You'll be safer if everyone thinks you're dead." 

"What-?" 

"Trust me... please." 

She hesitated for a moment, then: "I trust you… with all my heart." 

He blinked, somewhat touched by those words, and smiled sadly. 

“I love you…” he said, squeezing her hand before letting go and walking over to Jon. 

He gave the bastard one last disgusted look… 

Jon had been a good man… but he had made wrong choices. No one should ever mess around with a knight and his queen. Especially not this knight. 

"Drogon!" 

The dragon’s gaze landed on him and followed his finger. Jorah was pointing at Jon. 

"Dracarys!" 

He quickly took a few steps back as the dragon reared up and spat a golden-orange flame at the corpse, burning it. He looked back at Daenerys who had watched them without making a sound. 

"You should go now..." 

She looked as if she wanted to contradict him, but only nodded slowly. His heart clenched as she turned away and walked to her last dragon. The fact that he had been able to convince her so easily could only mean that she had thought about it before... 

Just before she climbed on top of it, she paused and looked back. 

"Will we ever see each other again?" 

His throat tightened at her words and he walked slowly over to her. 

"We will." 

She had lowered her eyes sadly. 

Carefully, he lifted her chin to meet his gaze. 

"We will meet again." 

He leaned in to her and breathed a kiss on her lips... a goodbye kiss. And for one last moment he closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers and both her hands in his. 

“Jorah…” 

“Mh?” 

“I love you too.” 

He chuckled, nearly staring to cry. 

"Don't forget me..." she murmured after she had pressed one last kiss on his lips. 

And as she was climbing onto her dragon, he actually felt tears welling up in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. 

"How could I?" he muttered, not sure if she had heard him, but he would forever remember the smile she gave him before Drogon took off to the skies... 

And then she was gone.


	50. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is it xD

_You must find a wife, My Lord._

Jorah shook his head. 

_You are not getting any younger!_

He trudged on through the snow, looking around. 

_You need an heir or House Mormont will die out._

He snorted. 

_Why don't you want to get married? Actually, it doesn't matter. Forget that reason!_

Any bear would have been proud of the growl that escaped him as he thought of all his advisor's admonitions. 

How could he ever forget her? 

It had been a year now without a single day passing that he had not thought of her. There had not been a morning when he had not wondered how she was doing, nor an evening in his bed when he had not longed for her. 

She was his curse. She always had been... ever since the day they had first met. 

Jorah pushed aside a barren branch with his spear and studied the ground again. The only tracks he found there were his own footprints in the snow. 

Frustrated, he sighed and walked on until he crossed one of the small streams. He knew that this would lead into a bigger stream that led to a secluded clearing. Actually, everything on this island was secluded... That's what he liked about it. 

It had to be one hell to raise children here, because they could disappear in a bush at any moment and it would take decades to find them again. He thought of his childhood... and of the fact that he himself had once run away. 

Smiling, he continued on his way. 

He could still remember the day... and of course his father's face when he had come back. Never had anyone stared at him with such anger and relief at the same time. 

Jorah arrived at the other stream and knelt down to wash his face in the icy water. Not that it was necessary... he just liked the feeling. 

He froze in mid-motion, however, when he heard branches break and a dull thud. Immediately he reached for his spear. It must have come from the small clearing. 

Either he was stupid and went there on his own or he was sensible and returned to come back later with more men. Easy decision. 

The babbling of the stream drowned out the crunching of snow under his boots as he walked on, but he was sure that one could still hear the beating of his heart miles away. He stopped when he heard a growl. A growl he easily recognized. But… but that couldn't be. 

Again, he heard that growl. 

Jorah threw caution to the wind and started running. He was now clearly aware of the rustling of scales and as he broke through the bushes, his breath caught. The winter sun made the black carapace shine dully and its breath formed huge clouds that rose to the sky, but Jorah almost didn't notice the dragon, as he only had eyes for the woman dressed all in white who was just getting off its back. 

Slowly, mouth opened, he stepped into the clearing to her. 

She too had now turned towards him and smiled such a wide smile that it filled his whole body with warmth and he too could not help but smile. Looking around attentively, she slowly approached him. When she arrived in front of him, she performed an exaggerated curtsy. 

"Good afternoon, My Lord… Could you by any chance tell me where I am? I must have taken a wrong turn…" 

Still too stunned to say anything, he just looked as she came even closer. 

A smile had found its way on his lips. 

None of his memories of her lived up to reality and he just couldn't take his eyes off her. When she cocked an eyebrow questioningly and even a little provokingly, he remembered her question and cleared his throat, "Well, you’re lucky… I do indeed know where you are.” 

Smiling, he slowly pulled her closer and breathed against her lips: 

"Welcome to Bear Island, ... Daenerys Targaryen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew… so this was the last chapter… I still cannot believe I’ve actually finished this project… FINALLY!!! 
> 
> Now I guess you have some questions, so let me explain to you how I imagined things went after Daenerys left:  
> Jorah tells everyone it was already too late when he found Daenerys. Jon had finished her off and the knight just caught Drogon burning him for that. He didn't dare stop the dragon as he carefully grabbed Dany's body and took to the air to disappear. Since no one could prove otherwise, everyone took it that way, even if Sansa Stark in particular (devastated, of course) was very sceptical. Besides, they can't agree on a single king and don't see why they should, so the Seven Kingdoms were split up again. Lady Sansa became Queen of the North and although Jorah didn't have a particularly good relationship with her, they came to terms with it.  
> I didn't write a whole chapter about it because I just found it boring and unnecessary. Whereas the reaction of the others might have been interesting, but I felt it could ruin the ending we have now.  
> And heyyy! Congrats to everyone who read it this far! I didn’t exactly expect anyone to care about this fic since it’s a lot like the show/books with some elements I brought in myself but if you enjoy that, I am very happy I could help out. 
> 
> Sooooo have a nice day, evening or night wherever and whenever you are!  
> Mia <3


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